Primal Magick
by YourDailyPrescription
Summary: Sleep eludes Harry one fateful night, which leads him to the one book he needs to read. Harry endures trials and tribulations his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and then beyond.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't by choice that Harry found himself in the Hogwarts library on the first of September. Not that he didn't like the library, but he could think of few alternatives that would offer the refuge he sought.

He sighed as he scanned the row of books in front of him. He barely glanced at the covers, as the moon provided little enough light from the windows. He rubbed his forehead, irritated at his scar for so many reasons, primarily, at the moment, for not allowing him a good nights sleep on his first day back to school.

Harry resigned himself to slipping off his invisibility cloak. He realized he didn't much care if Filch or Snape caught him in the middle of the night. He was feeling a little reckless and thought that being caught would only result in a meeting with the Headmaster, who was treading carefully around Harry these days. The Marauder side of him believed this was a fantastic opportunity to flex school rules anyway. Nobody would suspect it on the first day back. Most of the students were snoring happily in their dorms at this time, stuffed from the feast.

"Why am I looking at books again?" Harry mumbled to himself. Another habit he'd picked up this summer. Talking to oneself providing Harry with the little socialization he needed to make it through another summer at the Dursley's.

Oh, right. Looking at the paintings in the hallways only entertained Harry so much, he never had much of an eye for artwork, or an ear in this case. Sir Cadogan had taken to following Harry, wanting to duel him after hearing the gossip about last year's events in the Department of Mysteries. Apparently defeating Harry would be a great accomplishment to add to the list of his many conquests, which Harry now knew alphabetically.

The Kitchens were tempting but Harry was still full from the feast earlier that evening and didn't feel like being subject to the worship of the many house elves. He might have liked to visit Dobby, but pushed that thought away. House elves right now reminded him of Kreacher, and he felt a wave of emotions take him, guilt, anger, and sadness. He only learned of Kreacher's fate from Remus, who cheerfully informed him that the house-elf had hanged himself in front of his mistress' painting. They had found the matron Black oddly silent and sniffling, murmuring about how sweet a parting gift that'd been, and Kreacher's loyalty. Harry nearly gagged when he heard that.

The Owlery, was one, too high to climb, and two… well, Hedwig was still out flying, relishing in the freedom of the night sky. It was hard for her to remain cooped up in that cage most of the summer. Harry didn't send too many letters, he fancied himself a man of few words lately.

Words, right, he was in the library. It was the one place he could escape Sir Cadogan, as there were few paintings here. It was also the one place Harry could escape most his thoughts. His feet took him here tonight, and he wasn't about to ask why. Harry shook his head and drew his wand.

"Lumos."

Instantly, a comforting light emitted form the tip of his wand and he breathed deeply. Who knew he could draw such happiness from a simple spell? He took a moment to marvel a little at the magic he once dreamed would exist. Then his eyes flickered over to the Restricted Section.

He shrugged to himself as if saying 'why not?' He remembered the incident from first year and the Restricted Section, and this time vowed to be more careful. He casually slipped through the barrier that separated these few book from the rest of the shelves and began thumbing their spines. Seconds later he pulled his hand back, realizing sheepishly he could have incited a spell by his simple touch. He returned to searching with his eyes.

Harry never really read anything. He knew he didn't. The words just didn't seem to sink in. Maybe it was the style in which wizards wrote. He wanted an adventure and instead received a lengthy definition from his Charms book and a stern scolding from his Transfiguration book, always warning him what NOT to do, or going on a tangent into magical history about this curse or something. At that point Harry would only pretend to read and instead watch Hermione's quill scratch across her page. Then he'd imagine giant quills replacing broomsticks in Quidditch and laugh, causing him to forget his homework, and receive a curious glare from Hermione. Then he'd be at square one again.

That was probably why he didn't get amazing grades. He did all right, if he could focus more he could do better. But grades weren't really his concern lately. No, number one on the list was sleep, two was train, three was destroy Voldemort, and fourth was to get up the nerve to try Firewhiskey. Quidditch was somewhere in there also.

As he strolled toward the end of the shelves in the recesses on the Restricted Section, he briefly mused over his good fortune at being made Quidditch captain this year. Well, it wasn't really good fortune. Harry was busy, very busy. Dumbledore booked two evenings a week with him for Occlumency and other training (that he hadn't been told about yet), and he was now in NEWT's courses.

Harry reached the end of the shelves and promptly moved on to study the wallpaper with the same amount of attention he'd given the books. It was dusty and he held back a sneeze, temporarily inciting his wand to flare up, shedding light onto the ancient wall.

It was then that Harry noticed a tear in the wallpaper. Curious, he thumbed it for a moment. Then with a tug, felt it rip easily away. Never one to miss any sort of opportunity, he pulled off a large square in front of him to reveal a hole.

A long and thin hole was hidden there and Harry studied the book stashed away inside. He briefly considered waking Hermione to tell her about this. She would probably have a heart attack. A secret book! In a thousand year old library! He slung his invisibility cloak over his shoulder and yanked roughly on the book, sliding it out. The dust sprung out around it and Harry coughed into his sleeve.

The cover was so worn that Harry could not make out the title or the author. He flipped open to the first page.

"_Primal Magick_ by G. K. Gryffindor," Harry read aloud, amazed. _Well, it's obviously not Godric Gryffindor, but one of his descendents that wrote this. Wonder what it's got in it?_

He casually flipped open the first page.

_I am a woman of little words and even less patience so don't expect me to skirt around the subject of this book. Slytherin is evil. I've left this book for anyone worth a damn to read. Only a Gryffindor can read its contents—_

_Brilliant_! Harry thought to himself, a woman after his own heart. After sixteen years, Harry had finally found a book he was interested in reading. He stashed it under his arm and trudged back to Gryffindor tower, suddenly very sleepy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Birds of a Feather

It didn't escape Ron's notice that Harry had slipped out last night.

"Hey, mate," he greeted Harry as he descended from the boy's dormitory to the common room. "You took the cloak last night without inviting me." Ron grinned warily. He, of all people, understood Harry's nightmares, and his desire to just… walk around.

Harry shrugged. "Sorry, had to stretch my legs." The unspoken words passed between them. Ron shifted on his feet.

"I went to the library."

"You went to the WHAT? Harry I'm disappointed in you." Ron flopped down next to him. "Please tell me you went to the Restricted Section, or kicked Mrs. Norris… or set fire to something. I don't want you to become a bookworm, I get enough of that from 'Mione. She's already created a study schedule for the NEWT's. They're _next_ year!"

Harry hid a grin behind his hand as Ron's voice turned frantic. So that's why Hermione asked him what he did on Friday's.

"I did one of those things, snuck into the Restricted Section that is." He gestured to the book lying in front of him. Ron snatched it up and lazily flipped it open.

"Harry! A Gryffindor wrote this! A real one!"

Unbeknownst to them Hermione had just made it down the girl's stairs. Without hesitation, she hurried over to where they sat in front of the fire. "What? What did you say?" She then yanked the book from Ron's grasp. Harry almost felt bad for the poor thing.

"Good morning to you too, Hermione!" Ron said grumpily but smiled at her. Her nose was already buried in the book. She gasped and her head shot up.

"I'm sorry! Good morning, Ron!" She blushed slightly and lowered her gaze to the book. Harry saw his two best friends briefly meet each other's eyes.

This interesting development had been going on all summer. Of course, Harry had always suspected that Hermione and Ron had a thing for each other. The constant bickering, the playful jibes… that and they couldn't stand to be away from each other for more than twenty-four hours.

He really began to notice it at Grimmauld Place. Harry would have given anything not to return there, but he had no choice. The Order, with his permission, had continued to operate there under the Fidelius charm, and it really was the safest place for him… besides Hogwarts.

The entire Weasley clan was there when he arrived the day after his birthday, along with Hermione, Remus, Tonks, and a few other Order members. Harry hadn't been much conversation, dodging the concerned questions and strange looks; he retreated to his room with Ron. Ron hadn't said anything, like a true friend he had just grunted and sat down on his bed, reading a Quidditch magazine. Harry had never been more grateful.

Hermione had tried to get him to talk about Sirius, or what was going on in his head. Unfortunately, her prying only irritated him, and ended up aggravating his scar. His patience wore thin one night and he snapped at her. He yelled and instantly regretted it the moment the words came out of his mouth. He knew it wasn't her fault, she was only concerned for him, and wanted to help. The two reconciled the next day over breakfast. Hermione had been in tears, and for the rest of the summer, let him be.

"Wow. Harry! These spells are so strange and foreign to me. I think this woman created them herself!" Hermione eagerly flipped through the pages. "I wonder how old this is… and how many copies there are… why haven't we heard of it before?"

Just as Harry was about to launch into an explanation of how he found the book, a few younger Gryffindors stumbled down the stairs.

"Hold on, I'll tell you another time." He took the book from Hermione's hands. She gave him an odd look as he shrunk the book to fit in his pocket.

"Please tell me you didn't do anything illegal to get this Harry," Hermione said.

"'Mione, when have you ever known me to go to great lengths… or any lengths for that matter, to get a book?"

Ron couldn't hide his laughter and slapped Harry on the back, but quickly calmed down after looking at Hermione. She put her hands on her hips, trying desperately to hide a smile. Harry had missed being in the Trio way too much in the few weeks they had been separated during the summer. Ron's stomach growled loudly, eliciting a snort from Hermione.

"C'mon, I'm starving. Let's hit the Great Hall," Ron said. He jumped up and, without a word of confirmation from either Harry or Hermione, grabbed their arms and dragged them toward the portrait hole.

"Hold on!" Harry pulled himself away. "I forgot my bag and books! I'll meet you down there!" He moved to run up the staircase, he briefly heard Hermione comment on the importance of being prepared before Ron shushed her with his talk of pancakes.

Harry stumbled through his roommates discarded trunks and dug under his bed for his bag. He shoved a few quills and ink in the sides, and a few shrunken books. Harry managed to make it down the stairs without tripping in his haste, that was, before he tripped over Ginny.

Red hair and round glasses went flying as the two collided. Harry heard the crack of his glasses as they shattered, and cringed inwardly.

"Harry!"

"Ginny! I'm so sorry! I was in a hurry to get to Breakfast and I had forgotten my things and…Well," he rubbed the back of his head as he got up. His glasses lay broken on the floor. He snatched them up.

"Unprepared for your first day of classes, Potter?" Ginny joked as she took his proffered hand. He helped her up with a grin and helped to collect her things. He jokingly offered her his arm, momentarily forgetting about his glasses.

"To breakfast m'lady?" He smiled.

She giggled and wrapped her arm around his. "Lead the way, Sir Potter."

"Ugh, that reminds me of Cadogan. I hope he's not around this morning." Harry groaned as they stepped out of the portrait entrance.

Ginny… he was quite surprised when she had gone out of her way at Grimmauld Place to talk to him. He never really thought of her as a close friend before. But she was the only one who managed to lighten his mood. Her bold manner and funny jokes brought them closer together. She didn't walk on eggshells around him, like everyone else seemed to at times. She treated him like he was Harry… Just Harry.

He also liked the color of her hair, and the sounds of her voice. But he wasn't quite ready to admit that to himself yet. He also knew how Ginny felt towards him. Besides, Voldemort came first. At that thought, Harry's mood immediately sobered. He detached himself from Ginny at the entrance to the Hall and she frowned.

What right did he have joking around? As people were dying! _A war is going on, Potter. _Why was it his inner monologue sounded so much like Snape? The words of the prophecy echoed in his head. He knew at some point he'd have to tell Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't bring himself to, not quite yet.

He chided himself as he sat across from his two friends. A glance toward the front of the room caused him to meet Dumbledore's gaze. He remembered tonight they would meet for their first private lesson.

"Are you going to eat your sausage?" Ron asked, and then took the initiative to swipe it off his plate. Harry shook his head 'no' and proceeded to pick at his food.

His thoughts returned to Voldemort and he rubbed his scar with his index finger. He had had moderate success with Occlumency this summer, thanks to Hermione's thoughtful gift. She had given him _Defense of the Cranium_ by Isis Hingli, who turned out to be a better teacher than Snape. And in fact, Occlumency was rather relaxing for Harry, once he knew what to do. But Voldemort's attacks often came from within his mind, and there are very little defenses for that. He did manage to sleep sometimes, though.

"Harry, you should really eat something." Hermione said, a hint of pleading in her voice.

"I don't know, he looks kind of fat to me," Ginny said, plopping down on Hermione's other side. She reached over and pinched Harry's cheek. "You could afford to lose a few."

Harry snorted at that, already aware of his thin frame. It was good for Quidditch, at least. He said as much, earning a disbelieving look from Hermione and a grin from Ron and Ginny. Trust the Weasley children to see that logic.

"So what do you think of this Blotch fellow?" Ron maneuvered the conversation away from Harry.

They all looked, as if in unison, to the staff table, where the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher sat. He honestly didn't seem all that dangerous, chatting jovially with their Herbology professor. He even had some syrup on his robes.

Ing Blotch had a curly red beard and lean features that complemented his long face, but not his squishy nose. Harry knew everyone was as relieved as he was that Umbridge was gone, but they were wary all the same. Perhaps he only seemed harmless as a ruse. Harry doubted Dumbledore would hire a buffoon to teach them during a war, he had mentioned last night that Blotch was ex-ministry, and once an Unspeakable. He wondered if he'd find out more tonight. He had defense tomorrow and planned on interrogating the Headmaster, and his fellow students, in the meantime.

"He's a little clumsy, don't you think? I saw him trip last night over his chair as he got up…" Hermione said skeptically.

"I like him! He's got to be better than the she-devil we had last year! And besides, Unspeakables know all sorts of things. My dad always said they're a strange lot, fun to talk to, though." Ron grabbed another piece of toast. "I bet he's got a few tricks up his sleeve. Dumbledore wouldn't hire just anyone to teach us this year. He's got to be qualified."

"What do you think he's planning?" Harry was still watching Blotch as the professor cut his toast and began eating it with his fork. "Maybe he just wants us to think he's an idiot to catch us off guard."

Hermione looked at him with surprise. "You're right Harry, I never thought of that."

"How do you think I get by?" Harry said cheekily.

"Oh, yeah, you're a blooming genius, Harry." Ron said sarcastically as he lathered his toast with butter. "Like that Einstig fellow Hermione mentioned."

"It's Einstein, Ronald!"

"What kind of silly name is that anyway?"

Harry turned away from the conversation and met Blotch's gaze. He nodded in Harry's direction. Startled, Harry nodded back and was surprised to see the professor smiling. _Not all professors have vendettas against you, Potter. _He thought wirily to himself, remembering a few select teachers from the past… and present. He glanced at Snape toward the end of the table.

Harry stood, wanting to suddenly be alone. "I think I'll head off to class."

"Harry, we haven't even gotten our timetables yet." Hermione said, confused, as he walked away.

Dumbledore had already given Harry his in advance, because the Headmaster had made quite a few changes. Before Harry made his way to the Charms classroom he stopped by the boy's lavatory.

Harry splashed cold water onto his face and looked at his reflection. He was as thin as ever; even taller now that the summer was over and something was off about his eyes.

That was when Harry realized he hadn't put his glasses back on. He didn't even notice! Looking around the room, things easily came into focus. No part of his vision was blurry, like he was used to.

Harry was unnerved to find his glasses made his vision worse. _Maybe that collision with Ginny somehow affected my vision? _Harry splashed some water in his eyes. _Yeah right, and Merlin's my aunt._

Harry was used to having weird things happen to him, but his eyes? Nothing like this had ever happened before. Panic started filling up inside him. Was Voldemort a part of this?

_Wait, why would Voldemort try to _improve_ his enemy's vision? _Harry thought to himself. _Even he's not that thick._

His scar prickled uncomfortably as if Voldemort had heard the insult. He rubbed his forehead, hard, as if willing it to stop. A day didn't go by where Harry wasn't in pain from his scar. He wished there was some way to stop it.

The movement of his hand drew attention to his watch; the new watch Ginny gave him as a birthday present. It was time for class!

Forgetting his vision, Harry ran down the hallways and skidded to a halt in front of Charms. He opened the door to find only a few students there already. So he wasn't late, excellent.

Harry took a seat in the far corner, and waited as the classroom began to fill. Ron and Hermione took seats next to him. Both seeming to have forgotten his early departure from breakfast, they were probably used to it by now.

"I wonder who made it to NEWT's Transfiguration…" Hermione mumbled.

Ron huffed, "I barely made it myself, I can't believe Malfoy did." They watched the blonde sit two rows in front of them, lazily placing his arm around Pansy Parkinson.

A few other Gryffindors filtered in, sitting near the Trio. Parvati Patil flashed Harry a brilliant smile, and then turned to the giggles of her friends. Harry felt flustered and turned his attention to the small professor, who had just walked in the room.

Five minutes later he sat with a feather on his desk. Flitwick was instructing them how to make a portkey, the destination being the front of the room. Flitiwck explained how he gained permission from Dumbledore for the students to create portkeys inside Hogwarts grounds. Harry idly wondered if this was a way to give the students an escape route from Death Eaters. In fact, he knew in his mind it was.

Apparently, making a portkey was not as easy as Flitwick let on, because no one had succeeded yet. Hermione's eyebrows were furrowed deeply in frustration.

"Portus." Harry focused on the front of the room. He felt an odd, bubbly sensation but quickly brushed it away and returned his attention to the spell. Harry grabbed his feather and counted down from three.

He suddenly found himself in the front of the room.

"Well done, Mr. Potter!" His professor squeaked, as he toppled off his pile of books. Clearly Flitwick had not been expecting anyone to succeed so soon. "I've rarely had a student master that spell in just one day! The last was your mother. She would be very proud you know, very proud indeed." Flitwick beamed at him.

Harry blushed at the high praise and quickly returned to his seat, sinking lower to hide himself from view. Hermione huffed and returned to the feather, clearly upset at being beat. That was Hermione, though.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall next to him. The sunlight filtered in through the windows, warming him against the September chill. Voldemort seemed to be plotting at the moment, and the pain from his scar had subsided considerably by that point. He felt comfortable and at ease, back at Hogwarts, and a contented sigh escaped his lips.

Surrounded by friends and at Hogwarts, and somehow managing to complete a charm first in his class. Harry smiled and let himself daydream for a few minutes about flying. Flying! He had to remember to book the pitch later today…

"Harry…" Hermione's voice permeated his thoughts.

"Harry, mate," Ron added.

Harry's eyes flickered open and suddenly he felt himself falling. His chair landed with a slight clunk, and Harry's two best friends looked at him incredulously.

"Were you levitating my chair?" Harry asked them. How on Earth had he managed to do that?

"No… we just looked over and you were hovering…" Hermione said slowly. "You had a strange smile on your face…"

They both looked uneasy. "I think you might have done some accidental magic, Harry," Ron said suddenly, his eyes widening. "That must be it." He shrugged in his best friends' direction. "It happens sometimes." Ron said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"At sixteen?" Hermione asked Ron.

"Yeah… you know… it's magic." Ron flicked his wand a few sparks came out, landing on Hermione's nose. She sneezed and smacked his arm.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald." She said, her arm lingering on Ron's a little longer than necessary, and they both flushed as she drew her hand away. "Harry, I think you should tell Professor Dumbledore about this."

Harry's mood darkened as he thought of the wizard he was going to meet tonight. "I guess, Hermione."

Class ended sooner than he thought it would. He almost ran from the room to escape any questions or awkward conversations. Harry beat both his friends to Transfiguration and sat down by himself. Class wouldn't be starting for ten minutes, so he had plenty of time to organize himself.

Why was everything so confusing for him? He could never have a normal day at Hogwarts. First, his vision, then some accidental magic caused him to hover nearly a foot in the air. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Missing your glasses, Mr. Potter?" The Transfiguration Professor stated, more than asked. "You'll need those if you plan on taking notes today."

Harry surveyed the witch in the front of the classroom. He decided on telling the truth, she'd only find out later from Dumbledore, or another order member. "I haven't really needed them lately." He shrugged.

She raised her eyebrows and he could tell she wanted to ask more, but refrained. He was grateful when another student came in and started unpacking their bag. He realized with a start that it was Cho Chang.

"Hi, Harry," She said quietly, placing a few quills in front of her. She sat directly in front of him.

"Hi… Cho," He said awkwardly, feeling claustrophobic. _Great, another reminder of the end of last year, _he thought_._ He didn't know how to feel toward the pretty Ravenclaw, and he hoped she didn't expect there to be anything between them. He didn't want to talk about the Department of Mysteries... or Cedric... again.

Thankfully, a friend from her house sat down next to her, and they began to chat happily. A few other students settled nearby, mostly Ravenclaws, who else would be this early for class?

Time passed by quicker than he thought it would, and soon he was in the middle of the lesson. Once again a feather sat in front of him, daring him to cast a spell. _Ridiculous,_ _what do I need to conjure a bird for?_ As if reading his thoughts, McGonagall began to speak.

"In times of emergency, an owl, or a bird, can be summoned temporarily to deliver messages, or alert someone of your presence. This transfiguration is only temporary and we will be practicing making our spells last longer. The more powerful the spell, the longer it will last." She said, and adjusted her glasses.

_Huh, that's actually useful_. He thought of the times he'd been unable to locate Hedwig, and some students didn't have owls. He knew a bird wasn't very fast, but it was an alternative, if necessary.

With renewed energy, Harry turned to his feather and cast his spell, letting determination fill him.

"I did it!" Cho shouted joyfully, showing the professor her black crow. Harry looked up briefly before speaking the incantation again.

"Hey!" A brown eagle appeared before Ron. He grinned and stroked it's feathers. The bird nipped at his fingers but remained in front of him.

Harry muttered the spell again, finally starting to feel frustrated at his lack of result.

"Oh! Look how cute!" A pretty, miniature owl appeared in front of Parvati. Hermione also at the same time managed to produce a brightly colored parrot. McGonagall was befuddled at the front of the classroom, hurrying to take stock of all the new birds in her classroom.

Harry only grew more frustrated and glared at his feather. He spoke the spell again, clearly pronouncing each word and focusing on his task.

By lunchtime, everyone, even Draco Malfoy, had produced a bird. Harry, at the end, managed to produce a bald eagle, although he was thoroughly exhausted.

Harry had never seen McGonagall so overwhelmed as she awarded twenty points to each house.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Tea for Two

"Enter."

Harry heard Dumbledore's voice call from within his office. It was seven fifty-five, five minutes before their lesson officially began and Harry's palms were sweaty with nerves.

"Please, have a seat Harry," Dumbledore offered kindly, and gestured to the plush purple seat in front of him. He stood and took the seat adjacent to it, a tea set magically appearing between the two of them.

Harry hastily put away his wand. "Sir, I thought we might be doing Occlumency practice… or dueling or…"

"Oh, I might be a bit too old for those things, Harry." Dumbledore smiled as he took a sip of tea. "No, today I thought we might talk."

"Talk, sir?"

"Yes, I can imagine you'd be able to discern the subject of our conversation."

Harry gulped as he shook his head. "No… Not really. There's a lot to talk about." Voldemort… his outburst last year, Sirius… his parents, the prophesy.

"You, Harry."

"Me?"

"Yes, Harry, I wanted to talk about how you were doing, are you feeling quite alright?" Dumbledore looked at him, concerned. "I know your connection with Voldemort has strengthened lately. Have you been having any adverse effects?"

"Well… besides the pain in the scar. The nightmares," Harry suppressed a shudder, "have gotten worse. But they're no longer nightmares. They're visions. Visions of his… work."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Yes. I figured as much. I am so sorry, Harry. Sorry I hadn't asked you sooner how you were. I've been out of touch." He took a wrinkled hand and smoothed over his brow. He suddenly met Harry's gaze with intensity. "I am sorry you must suffer this."

"And _only now_ know why." Harry retorted. "And only now… know that ALL of this could have been avoided!"

Dumbledore sat silently. An awkward tension filled the air. Harry felt a chill travel up his spine, painfully slow. He hadn't meant to say it that way. He only felt so _guilty. _He felt like a marked man, doomed to have Voldemort around every corner, in every hallway, in the classrooms… watching his friends. They would always be in danger. Everywhere he went he was spreading the taint of Voldemort.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I was only thinking ab—"

"About your loved ones… I understand Harry." Dumbledore sighed wearily. "You know Harry, I have always had your best interest at heart. See now, I did not tell you the prophecy for what it would do to you, I could think only of how you would be hurt, how you would feel. And you, learning of the prophecy, can only think of others. It's truly remarkable."

"That's the major difference between you two. Tom Riddle acts only for himself, to gain strength, to gain reputation… he values those who are an asset to him. You, on the other hand… you have always been humble. You have helped the meek, and loved freely." He leaned forward in his chair.

"Although you may look alike on the surface, Tom and you are polar opposites." Dumbledore drew Harry's face closer with a hand on each cheek. "Surely, Harry, you must know that."

Harry felt many things at once. He was embarrassed to have such praise lauded on him, and ashamed to have once thought himself like Tom. He had entertained the idea of being dark more than once. He had thought about how easy it would be to just… let the burden go. But he could never do it; he loved his friends too much. He had too much to live for.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, "Yeah, I… see what you mean." Dumbledore let him got and they both let the silence descend once more.

"I guess I… I mean, I've thought about… you know… going dark. Not like that! I just thought about walking away, just forgetting." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "But I could never do it! I mean… er… the magical world's given me friends. And family. Everything I've ever wanted. I used to sit in my cupboard and dream about a world I belonged in. And this world needs me, I'll never turn my back on it."

Harry, somehow, managed not to blush during his speech. He turned to see the Headmaster smiling, with that familiar twinkle in his eye. "I know you won't Harry."

"Voldemort won't win." Harry said determinedly.

"Of course he won't! We have you." Dumbledore smiled and placed a cup of tea in Harry's hand.

Another silence occurred as they both sipped their tea. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked obnoxiously, in Harry's opinion.

"I'm prepared to die, you know." Harry said. "I've been thinking about it a lot. And if I could die… to stop him, then I'd do it. I've been thinking that that wouldn't be too bad. If my parents could do it to save me then… I would like to die the same way my father did, fighting evil."

"I hope you won't have too," the Headmaster said in a pained voice. He had finished his tea and set it down on the small table between them. "Harry, I have another reason for talking to you tonight. I've made a few alterations to your schedule."

"Again?" Harry wondered what the Headmaster had in store for him.

"Yes, I'm sure you've noticed the new Defense teacher? Professor Blotch will be teaching you advanced defense on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Oh… erm, alright then."

Dumbledore smiled. "You seem tentative, Harry."

"Well, I don't really know him. Can we trust him? Is he a…er-is he a decent wizard?"

"Ah! Don't worry m'boy." Dumbledore escorted him to the door. "You'll be in good hands."

Later, Harry snuck back through the portrait of the fat lady. The Headmaster's words were still ringing in his head, and he had adrenaline rushing through him. He climbed the boy's staircase, trying to think of something (other than studying) to do at night. He had already snuck out, and didn't want to try his luck two nights in a row.

Harry finally decided on opening his newly acquired book, after changing into a set of pajamas Mrs. Weasley bought him. He quietly slipped into bed and pulled the hangings shut. He propped himself up on the pillows and flipped to the second page.

Harry quickly grew confused. "There are no chapters…" he mumbled to himself.

Great, it seemed G. K. Gryffindor jumped from topic to topic in one long rant. She would oftentimes go off subject and into a personal story, related to whatever she was teaching.

_The Arcane Shield can be summoned to remain suspended throughout battle, deflecting stunners and minor curses. _

_Sounds simple enough_, thought Harry. The incantation however, was to be done wordlessly, and there were no wand movements associated with this spell. Harry quickly flipped through the book. All these spells were impossible.

He sighed and slammed the book shut, but regretted it when he heard Ron stir next to him. He could here his roommate mumble something in his sleep about toffee. Harry pulled the covers up and over his head, sighing into the soft, red fabric.

Another day down.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: The Major Setback

When Harry awoke, he had no idea what was in store for him. By all appearances it would be a normal day of classes. He did, however, have to put on his glasses again. His vision was back to its normal state.

One good thing about today was he was no longer taking Potions. In Harry's opinion, it was a waste of time. The way he saw it, Voldemort came first, and if he succeeded, what Auror Academy in the world would deny him? He also didn't have the energy to deal with Snape these days.

So, instead of heading to a double NEWT's potions class, Harry walked downstairs to complete his homework in the comfort of the Gryffindor common room.

He chose a seat near the corner window, away from too many people. It would give him the privacy he craved.

No such luck.

"Hi Harry." He heard, more than saw, someone sit across from him.

"Oh, hello, Gin." Harry looked up briefly, wondering what she wanted.

She didn't say anything, just opened her Charms textbook and started taking notes. Harry continued working as time flew by. He could hear the synchronized scratching of their quills and it was driving him mad. Did she want him to say anything? Why did she sit with him?

He knew they'd been friends at Grimmauld place, but he didn't think it would continue at Hogwarts. He knew Ginny was a popular girl in her grade. Why would she want to spend time with him?

Finally, feeling incensed and irritated, he slammed his quill down.

"Look, do you want something?" He snapped.

Ginny looked up, startled by his outburst. "What? No, I just… I have a free period and was going to study for the OWL's with it. What's wrong with _you_?"

She sounded angry with him and it only fueled his bad mood. "Well, you've never sat with me. It's not my fault I thought you wanted something. Everyone wants _something_ from me." His gripped his hand in a fist.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said sarcastically. "Excuse me for wanting to be a friend. I don't _want_ anything from you."

"You've never paid any attention to me _before_."

"What are you going on about!"

"Nothing! It doesn't matter!" Harry slammed his book shut. He was so angry, and for no reason at all. The feeling in his scar stabbed at him and he rubbed it vigorously.

"Is your scar hurting?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Of course it's hurting! What sort of question is that? It's _always_ hurting!" He was almost yelling by now. "It hurts when I breathe in, and when I breathe out. It hurts at night and during the day. It hurts when I stand up! It bloody hurts when I talk!"

Harry breathed heavily and continued to rub his scar. He felt hot and overworked. It wasn't Ginny's fault and he knew it. She was trying to be nice to him and he threw it in her face.

"Look, Ginny I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me." He sighed deeply.

"Harry, you can't use a break up line on me if we've never dated."

"What? I—" He suddenly realized what he'd said. Ginny was smiling at him. "I, er… didn't mean it like that. Wow, that was cliché. Er… What I meant to say was. It's not… easy to… be me."

"Harry, I don't want anything from you." She reached over to take his clenched hand and loosed it, pulling it into hers. "I want to help you."

Harry sat quietly. He stopped rubbing his scar and looked at her. He quite liked her eyes. He scoffed and pulled his hand away from hers.

"Think about it Ginny, anyone who helps me, dies. And I don't want you to die, Gin." His tone was so bitter, it surprised even him.

"That's not true. You still have plenty of friends who are still alive, Harry." Ginny reached over again but he pulled away.

"For now." Harry stood and grabbed his bag; he was done talking to Ginny for the day. He didn't think he could take the way she stared at him, pleading him to understand.

He headed off to his scheduled class, Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was time to meet his new teacher. He only hoped Ing Blotch wasn't as clueless as he appeared to be.

Meeting Ron and Hermione outside the doors, he walked into the classroom before them, not saying a word. They both read his dark mood easily, and shared a glance behind his back.

Ron sat down next to him. "Why weren't you in Potions?" he questioned.

"Not taking it this year, had to make room for Dumbledore," Harry said shortly.

"Snape kept drawing attention to the fact that you weren't there. He was trying to goad us, Harry," Hermione said. "But… I thought you wanted to be an Auror?"

"Dreams change." Harry said darkly and pulled out his notes.

Ing Blotch stumbled into the room from his office, and hurriedly straightened. He grinned to the class, and Harry could see the traces of gray in his beard clearly, now that he was closer. He wondered what the professor planned for his first day of class.

"Good Morning!" He said, _still_ grinning.

Half of the class responded, while the other half sat and waited for something to happen. Harry mumbled half-heartedly, still studying Blotch.

"Well, you're not going to learn much sitting here! On your feet!" He said cheerfully. "Up and at 'em. Up!" He flicked his wand and a few chairs were pulled underneath the students who had yet to move. Quite a few complaints were heard and Draco was rubbing his bottom as they moved out of the classroom.

"I thought we'd take a little field trip today!" The professor continued to talk over his shoulder as they walked. "Nothing like a change of scenery to get new energy!"

They, after many wrong turns made by the Professor, wound up on the grounds. They were on the opposite side of Hogwarts as the greenhouses. Nothing interesting was here, a few stone paths and the forest looming nearby.

"So what are we _doing_?" Draco sneered, clearly unimpressed.

"Today, we're going to learn how to skillfully get out of a tricky situation." Blotch swished his wand and everyone was drawn into a line. "Any volunteers?"

No one raised his or her hand, a few students even looked at Harry to do something. He was the leader of the DA, and the Tri-Wizard champion, shouldn't he do something? Harry knew this was a bad idea, but convinced his feet to step forward.

"I'll do it." He needed to get on this man's good side, anyway.

"That's the spirit! Ah, wait, I seemed to have missed your name lad." He scratched his beard thoughtfully as the class looked at him incredulously. "Hmm… Herman!"

"What? No it's—"

"Thanks for volunteering Herman! If you would please step up to here… yes there, perfect! Now draw your wand and face me. Good. Now, STUPEFY!"

Harry rolled to the side as the spell cast, with so much vigor, blasted away part of the stone behind him. Ron yelped and Hermione shouted. He could hear the Slytherin's laughing in the background, no doubt enjoying the spectacle of The-Boy-Who-Lived rolling around in the dirt.

"Excellent dodge! Now let's see how you handle a wordless spell!" He flicked his wand in Harry's direction and Harry put up a shield. The shield didn't appear and he was thrown off his feet.

Harry sprung back up and threw a disarming spell at Blotch. No magic came from his wand, however. He glared at his wand as another spell came hurtling at him, this time, a stinging hex.

Harry once again was forced to dodge and was now only three feet diagonal of the professor. He cast the body bind hex but no magic ensued. He huffed as Blotch sent another stunner. Harry rolled forward and decided his best option was simply to barrel into him.

With the Professor off of his feet, Harry wrestled his wand from him and stood.

"Fantastic Herman! Exactly what I wanted to show the class. Notice how Herman took the initiative to physically attack his opponent, outstanding! Don't know why you didn't cast any spells, though. Take a break, Herman!" He grabbed his wand back from Harry and stood once more.

The rest of the class was paired off. Blotch mixed pairs constantly until he got the students matched to his liking, and then went around watching duels. He would constantly butt in and fix small things. Or simply trip the students. Harry, or Herman as he was called, was given a "break" and told to go around and "jostle" the students.

"Try to surprise them, Herman, knock them off their feet or push them around. They still need a bit of waking up! If only we could cause an Earthquake…" he trailed off and Harry looked at him with trepidation. He had no doubt their next class would involve a shaking ground.

By the end of the class most students were sullen and upset, a few had scratches and bumps. Towards the finish, Blotch started summoning chairs and desks during duels. He also summoned rain clouds over students, and quite a few resulted in hail. A lightning bolt struck poor Seamus, whose hair stuck up comically.

Harry wondered if the day would ever be over. He still hadn't been able to cast any spells. Maybe his wand was on the fritz? That happened, right?

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table for lunch, nursing their bruises and frowning.

"It was very… educational," Hermione stated.

"He's mad. I've decided. Lost his head years ago, in my opinion," Ron said as he placed food on his plate. "He didn't even assign us homework."

"Yes he did, you just weren't listening when he announced it." Hermione sighed, but looked affectionately at him. "List five curses you can use repeatedly in a duel. I wonder how he'll grade it. Wouldn't it depend on the person's preferences?" She trailed off, clearly disturbed over the lack of guidance.

He felt a presence over his shoulder. Harry flushed as Ginny came to sit next to him and held up her arms. "I come in peace."

Ron looked up at them but quickly returned to his food, as soon as he saw whom it was.

"Oh, hey Gin," Harry said. His mood had abated since their argument. Hermione glanced between the two. "How was… er, Charms?"

"Alright, I guess, I never did finish those notes," she said pointedly at him. "Flitwick started raving about the OWL's, all my teachers have started class with a speech. It's getting annoying."

Harry couldn't help but jump when their hands brushed underneath the table, but firmly kept his where it was. So did she. So their hands were touching the entire time Hermione told Ginny about the OWL's. Harry didn't know how he managed to eat with one hand, but he did. He enjoyed the contact far too much to let it end.

"So Harry, what did you do during Potions?" Ron brought him out of his reverie.

"Oh… I studied with Gin," he said and let his pinky and ring finger rest lightly over her hand. She didn't move away and said nothing to him.

"Hmm," Hermione said and her and Ginny shared a look, one of those girl looks that communicate more than words. Harry hated those looks because he felt they were hiding something from him. "Do you have a meeting with Dumbledore tonight, Harry?"

"No, with Blotch, I'm having advanced lessons apparently." Harry sighed and Ginny slipped her hand farther underneath his. He almost jumped and turned to grin at her. She smiled back shyly and blushed. Perhaps… all was forgiven?

"I don't envy you then, mad as a hatter that one." Ron still remained oblivious, but Hermione was suddenly looking very suspicious, and kept giving Ginny the look. "Have fun, Harry."

"I think I will." He finally turned over Ginny's hand to entwine their fingers, but a bang and an "I forgot!" broke them apart.

"Harry! I forgot! I need your help with something!" Ron was already running out the hall. Harry had enough time to give an apologetic smile to Ginny, before running after him. As he left, he saw Hermione talking to Ginny with raised eyebrows. Ginny was still smiling at him.

In their room, Ron shuffled through his things, tossing them around and hitting Harry with several socks. "Ha! Found it!" Ron pulled out an odd looking instrument.

It looked, to Harry, like a glass picture frame. It was square and thick. He didn't say anything, and waited for Ron to explain.

Ron spent the next several hours enchanting it for Hermione's birthday, asking for suggestions from Harry. Harry was glad Ron remembered, or he'd have surely forgotten. He felt guilty, but figured he'd had enough to worry about lately. He would have remembered eventually, at the last minute. Ron assured him he could put his name on the card, but Harry insisted on getting her something on his own. Ron's gift seemed too personal anyway. It should be between them.

Harry glanced at his new schedule. He had found it lying on his pillow when he got to his dorm. It read on Tuesday to meet Professor Blotch at seven o' clock in the DADA room. To say he was worried was an understatement.

He arrived in the room at exactly seven. Blotch was eating biscuits at his desk, humming to himself. "Ah! Harry!"

Harry sighed in relief; the Professor had finally learned his name.

"Why did you let me keep calling you Herman before, you should have told me." He looked disapprovingly at Harry. "Don't pretend to be someone you're not, I quite liked Herman. Now I don't even know you."

The Professor frowned. "No matter! We shall simply have to start again! I am Professor Ing Blotch! Welcome to DADA for Harry Potter, a separate class I'm holding for only advanced students!" Harry looked around him to make sure he was still alone. "Now please introduce yourself."

"I'm Harry Potter." Blotch nodded at him to go on.

"Er… you know, the Boy-Who-Lived? The one Voldemort's chasing after?"

"Do continue." Blotch said calmly and sipped his tea.

"Didn't Dumbledore tell you about me, and why I need training?"

"Well, yes, of course he did! But I wanted to learn about _you_ Harry. All I know so far is that you pretended to be poor Herman."

Harry shifted on his feet awkwardly. "Well there's not much to tell. I'm a Gryffindor. But you know that already."

"Ah, yes. I was a Gryffindor myself. Stupid hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw, but I've always distrusted the color blue. Reminds me of Grindylows."

"Grindylows are green."

"Yes, I know. Doesn't mean they don't remind me of the color blue." He stood and drew his wand. "Now what I want to know, Harry, is why Herman didn't fire any spells today during class." He suddenly looked very serious and stared intently at Harry.

So, he had noticed. "Well, it's not that I didn't try… It just… didn't happen."

"No magic?" He furrowed his brow, Harry noticed how his beard bounced up and down as he talked. "That's strange. Perhaps you could cast a spell for me now? Something simple, like a hovering charm."

"Sure." Harry drew his want and attempted to charm the paperweight in front of the Professor. Once again, nothing happened. "Nothing happened."

"You do have an affinity for stating the obvious, lad." Professor Blotch scratched his beard. "I have known a few wizards to lose their magic, temporarily of course, for some reason or another. Have you been feeling ill? Dragonpox can cause magical loss."

"No. I've been fine." Harry blinked, "Wait…"

Blotch nodded in confirmation.

"Yesterday I was feeling funny. I started levitating in Charms. And my vision was suddenly better, but it was the same this morning," he waved at his glasses. "I couldn't transfigure easily in class until the last minute. Then this morning I got all worked up over nothing. It was stupid really. And now I can't cast _any_ spells."

"Hmm." Blotch sunk down into his chair. "Well there's nothing I can do about that Harry, other than say, sometimes it happens. We all go through periods of struggle in our lives. I believe you have just entered a major one." Blotch was starting to remind Harry of Trelawney. "I only hope to help you as much as I am capable."

Harry nodded and swallowed roughly.

"Biscuit?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Further Trials

_Harry was standing on the ocean shore. A town nearby stood in flames. He casually walked around scattered dead bodies. Many were waterlogged and began to float out to sea. The air was cold, he knew, but he felt nothing. The Dark Mark stood defiant against the setting sun, daring it to outshine him._

_One body moved. It twitched, ever so lightly, a sign of life in the barren desert before him. _Avada Kedavra. _Defiance disgusted him, especially weak defiance, especially that Potter. _

_He was so frail… so sickly sympathetic. He scowled. Then, Harry felt delight course through him._

"_Ah, Harry!" Voldemort said, in his unnatural voice, as if his vocal chords had worn away long ago, and only iron string remained. _

_He set fire to a piece of driftwood, and idly watched it burn. _

"_Don't worry, I'm coming for you."_

_He turned his back to the shore and stared out to sea. He slowly drew his wand across the water. Fire burst from his outstretched arm, and danced on the surface of the sea._

" _You may believe you'll last Potter, but I'll win eventually. I'll wear you down."_

_Voldemort breathed deeply, letting the fire surge. The water began to boil on the seashore, and immense amounts of steam came off of it._

"_I'll always be there, I have eternity." Voldemort sneered in delight at the wafting smell of dead fish. "That's a promise. I'll be watching."_

Harry shot out of bed and fell to the ground. It was morning. Panic still gripped him, and he rushed to the bathroom to relieve his stomach. He sat against the tiled wall and wiped the sweat off his brow. Another nightmare. The flames still felt hot against his face. He was sweating buckets. His arms were sticky and hot. His feet felt blistered, but he knew if he looked, they would appear fine, as always.

Ron came into the bathroom, and behind him, Harry could see Dean and Seamus peeking around the doorframe.

"All right?" Ron asked, and handed him a glass of water. Harry grabbed it greedily, drinking it in two hasty gulps.

"Yeah," Harry responded, his voice hoarse, he guessed he'd been screaming. "I'll be all right. Just give me a few."

Ron exited the bathroom, telling Dean and Seamus they had to get to breakfast in twenty minutes. That would get rid of them, so he could talk to Ron, if he felt up to it. He didn't know. His very skin felt raw.

It was a typical Wednesday morning for Harry, consisting of nightmares and vomiting.

Harry stumbled to his feet and leaned over to wash his arms and face. He grabbed a washcloth and wet it, letting the cool water soothe his skin. He splashed and scrubbed his face, then looked up at his reflection.

Red eyes. A snake's face. ivory skin.

Harry scrambled backwards and grabbed the first thing he came across, the discarded glass. He threw it at the mirror and both mirror and glass shattered. Ron ran into the room.

"Bloody hell! What happened, Harry?" Ron reached over, but Harry flinched at his touch.

"Nothing. I'm fine," he said, but his voice broke and his whole frame shook. He held his hands in front of him, they were trembling so much it looked like he was vibrating. He panted, desperate for air.

"You're clearly not fine."

"JUST LEAVE IT!" Harry shouted. The window shattered, spraying glass over the two. Harry looked to see cuts forming on Ron's astonished face. Harry sat, ashamed and alone, as Ron stormed out of the room. Harry slammed his head against the tile repeatedly.

He was a moron. He was out of control. He was clearly losing his mind. There were so many things _wrong_ with him. He hated himself. He had to go after Ron.

Harry ran downstairs to the common room. He must have been a gruesome sight. The cuts from the glass of the mirror, cup, and window hung off of his clothes. He was bleeding, not just from his scar this time, and breathing heavily. He skidded to a stop in front of Hermione, who was healing Ron's bleeding face.

"Ron, I'm s-sorry. I didn't mean that, I saw Voldemort… in the mirror! I l-lost it. I know I did." Harry stumbled over his words. "He… he told me that he was watching me. And my head started playing games with me."

He looked desperately at his best friend. Hell, his _only_ male friend on earth. Ron had to understand. At the moment, Ron was studying his feet intently, letting Hermione fuss over him. Hermione heard Harry, but chose not to comment.

"Harry, do you think you're…" Ron trailed off.

"I'm…?" Harry prodded him on, relieved to hear his friends voice again.

"Don't you think you're… I don't know. Hermione?" Ron said, pleadingly. "Can't you say something?"

Hermione sighed and her wand left Ron's face, he was back to normal, sans cuts. She turned to Harry and studied the rug between them. Ron and her shared a glance. "Well… Harry. Ron and I have been talking… not in a bad way!" she hurried to say, "We've been worried about you, everyone has been. It seems to us lately, that you've been… I don't know… slipping?"

"Slipping?" Harry said.

"Yeah, mate," Ron said firmly, "Slipping. You're losing it a little. You need to talk to someone, anyone. We've asked you a thousand times to talk to us, but you don't want to."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Hermione. "Don't deny it, Harry. You have to talk to someone, and if it's not going to be us, than at least find someone. Remus… or Dumbledore or… I don't know."

This was it. Harry had to tell them about the prophecy. Their friendship was suffering and looked to be ending. If he didn't tell them soon, he could lose them. And Harry couldn't bear to lose them. He had no family, these were the only two people on Earth he had. But how could he tell them? How could he spell out his doom in front of the two people who had done everything for him?

_Life is unfair._ His inner monologue told him. Life _was_ unfair, especially for him. He steeled himself and inhaled.

"There's something I have to tell you…" Harry blurted out. "It's the… it's the—" He struggled for words.

"The what, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry leaned in close to them. "The prophecy."

Both looked confused. "Harry, we've been over this. The prophecy was destroyed in the Department of Mysteries. Both you and Neville saw it happen. Are you still thinking about Sirius?"

_Great, they both think I'm mad!_ "No! It was destroyed but… Dumbledore was… he was there when it was originally told."

Ron and Hermione's eyes widened considerably. Harry looked suspiciously around the common room and gestured to the portrait hole. "Listen, could we talk somewhere else. Only a handful of people know about this, I'm not even allowed to tell anyone about it, but I can't keep you guys in the dark any longer. I need you."

Silence.

"We need you too." Ron placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Hermione looked sadly at him, but was smiling. He sighed in relief. At least he still had his friends.

Later, in the Room of Requirement, Harry recited the prophecy from memory, as the words were branded in his mind.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_"

Ron and Hermione sat in silence, thinking about what they'd just been told. Or at least, Harry hoped they were thinking. They were most likely plotting their escape route. He cringed inwardly and shrank down in his seat. Hermione sighed loudly, and sniffed.

"I knew it!" she cried, and flung herself at Harry. Shocked and stunned, Harry patted her on the back awkwardly, looking to Ron for assistance. Ron just gave him a strange look, as if to say 'I can't help you.'

Eventually, Hermione's sniffles subsided, and she sat back down in her chair.

"I'm so sorry, Harry!" she hurriedly straightened his shirt and swept the fringe of his hair out of his eye, a motherly gesture that Harry had not been expecting. "It suddenly all makes sense! Why Voldemort is constantly hunting you! I don't believe in Divination… but… clearly Voldemort does."

"What does this mean?" Ron asked. "Does this mean… that you're the only one who can… who can off V-voldemort?"

Harry looked Ron in the eye. "I don't know. I think so. Voldemort only knows half of the prophecy, the first half. That's why he attacked Godric's Hollow on Halloween and killed my parents. And it's why he sent me visions of the Department of Mysteries. It wasn't a trap to get to me, he wanted the other half of the prophecy, and only I could get it. Well, maybe it was both. Everything has been connected, from the very beginning, by this prophecy."

"But that doesn't mean it's true!" Hermione shot out of her chair. "It can't be! They can't expect… it was told by Trelawney for goodness sake!" She looked frazzled and put her hands on her hips.

"It was a real prophecy, from what Harry's told us. Trust me, Hermione." Ron grabbed her hand and dragged her to her seat again. "You might not be used to it, because you're muggleborn. Not that that's a bad thing!" Ron said, at her raised eyebrows. "But prophecy's hold a lot of stock in the magical world. They're considered an absolute truth."

Hermione looked from Ron to Harry, and slowly nodded. Harry could tell she was skeptical, but chose not to comment. He knew she would be in the library later. Ron was oddly calm.

"You're… you're not mad? Or scared?" Harry asked.

"Of course not!" Hermione said. "We'll help you through anything, Harry. Right Ron?"

Ron nodded and swallowed. "Of course, Harry. You're my best mate. Always have been, always will."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "So… that's why I've been acting so weird lately. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt. You can't tell anyone, understand?" They both nodded their heads. "If anyone finds out, the Daily Prophet would have a field day with this. The ministry would start to interfere and… well, you know what happened last year."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You know you can trust us."

"I tried to!" Harry stood and paced in front of them. "But I couldn't, not until now. I didn't believe it myself. The prophecy seemed so… otherworldly, and I knew it couldn't be talking about me. When I got back to school, it sunk in. It had nothing to do with you you're my friends. You're my only friends, and I can't afford to lose you too."

Harry hung his head. He didn't think he could meet their eyes, not yet.

"So you meet with Dumbledore, not just for defense, but to learn how to… how to…" Ron made a slashing noise with his hands.

"No, I suppose that's what the lessons with Blotch are for."

"Oh, right." Ron nodded. "I almost forgot you met with him. What do you do in these… lessons? Can I come?"

Harry shifted on his feet. "Er—I don't know. I'd have to ask. We haven't done anything lately. I haven't been able to."

Hermione looked up sharply. "What do you mean, you haven't been able to?" She sounded shrill. "Is the coursework too advanced? You should be talking to him about this, Harry. You're very life is at stake!"

"No…" Harry didn't want to tell them. Somehow, his magical problems seemed private. But he knew he had too. "Lately I haven't been able to cast any spells."

Ron's jaw dropped and Hermione's eyes bulged. Her mouth opened and closed, reminding Harry of the fish in the Black Lake.

"Harry, you have to go to Dumbledore! Now!" Hermione said.

"No! Wait! Yes, you have, I've seen you!" Ron placed a hand on Hermione's arm. "Just today you shattered the glass! You were levitating in Charms! You've been performing magic every day."

"But I can't _control_ it!" Harry shouted, frustrated. He ran his hand through his hair. "What am I going to do? I told Blotch about it, and he said there's nothing to do. He's probably already told Dumbledore, but if it's something to do with _me_ then… nothing can be done. I'm dysfunctional!"

"I'm sure there's an explanation for this, Harry." Hermione reasoned. "Magic doesn't just leave. You've been a wizard all your life, and you're still in Hogwarts. If you were magic-less than you wouldn't even be able to see the school!"

"Yeah, maybe it's a type of flu… or cold." Ron scratched his chin. "Some wizard sicknesses cause temporary magical loss. Other can alter your powers, or change your talents. My Uncle Fabian got a cold when he was thirteen and had to go to St. Mungo's. After he got out, his lumos charm could light a whole room! Illness can do strange things to a wizard because it affects us differently."

"But I feel fine!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not sick, I swear!"

"Then maybe it will pass?" Ron said.

"I don't know, Harry. I'll look into it, but this is a serious problem. I'm just grateful we're at Hogwarts right now," Hermione said. "You're safe here from attack, but what about the summer, or the holidays? Harry, you need to do magic."

Harry sunk back into his seat and placed his head in his hands.

The trio had missed breakfast, and although hungry, their friendship was considerably strengthened. Little things changed throughout the day. Ron was always flanking him on his right, and sat next to him whenever he could. He was quick to take Harry's side in any and all arguments. Hermione was quick to explain any spells he was confused about. She made sure to repeat things the Professors would say, if Harry hadn't heard. And both refrained from arguing that day. Harry knew this behavior would pass, and soon their relationship would be back to normal. But it was kind of nice being fussed over, and Harry found he really didn't mind.

Eight o' clock came too quickly, in his opinion. He left the common room, saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and began his journey to the Headmaster's office. He twiddled his wand in his right hand as he walked. When he passed the library, a familiar head of black hair ran past him.

"Cho?" Harry called, but she was gone before he knew it. He stood in the middle of the hallway, debating whether or not he should go after her. Last year, he would have. Two years ago, he wouldn't even consider anything else. But this year, he turned away and continued his walk.

Harry spoke the password to the stone gargoyle, who jumped aside, and jogged up the stairs. His stomach was doing funny somersaults as he knocked on the door.

"Enter," came the Headmaster's voice. Harry placed his hand on the ornate doorknob. The door creaked open to reveal Dumbledore and Blotch, conversing quietly.

The Headmaster already knew. Hopefully, he would have an answer as to why this was happening. Harry shut the door behind him and took two steps in. The conversation stopped, not that Harry could have heard that, as they were speaking in whispers, their heads bent together conspiratorially. As Harry observed them, it occurred to him that Dumbledore and Blotch could have been old friends. Tea and biscuits, along with what could have been dinner, lay between them, and Blotch had his shoes off and was sitting quite comfortably in a purple squishy armchair.

Harry reached behind him to shut the door. "Harry! Thank you for being so punctual. I'm afraid I've let time slip by me, and I was just having an interesting conversation with Professor Blotch about your lesson yesterday."

So they were talking about him. Fantastic. "What about?" Harry inquired, although unnecessarily.

"About your inability to produce a single spell, Harry," Blotch finished his thought. "We've been talking in lengths about what might have caused this."

"I'm not sick," Harry said automatically, thinking of Ron and Hermione.

"No, we're not saying you are. But we're not saying you aren't, Harry." Dumbledore stood and fished out his wand. "But if you would allow me to perform a few spells. 'Twill only take a moment."

Harry nodded and gulped. He felt, more than saw, several spells being placed over him. One, in particular, tickled his nose horribly, and he sneezed. "He doesn't have pig warts, Albus, don't be ridiculous." Blotch remarked. After what felt like twenty or so spells, Dumbledore stood back and sat behind his desk, gesturing for Harry to sit. He did so, with trepidation.

"So," Harry twiddled his thumbs, "what's wrong with me?"

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his brow. His concerned eyes met Harry's. "I'm afraid I don't know, Harry. It's not something that I am familiar with. I believe I will need to call for assistance to be able to ascertain what has happened to you."

"Tell me, Herman—er—Harry," Blotch said. "Professor Dumbledore filled me in on your accidental magic uses, lately."

Harry jumped and looked at the Headmaster. "You can't simply levitate in Charms and shatter school property without me being aware, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Not to mention, transfigure twenty or more birds in class."

"But I didn't do that!" Harry exclaimed. "I could barely transfigure my own feather!"

"Most likely because you were too busy doing your classmates work. Professor McGonagall came to me because she was worried she was losing her touch. She prides herself in making challenging lessons for her NEWT students. Upon observation of her memory, I realized what you had done. It's very impressive, Harry."

"But also very alarming," Blotch said. "He could turn me into a bird at any second!"

"So what are we going to do?" Harry asked. "What am I going to do about class?"

"For now, I am going to write a note to all your teachers, explaining you're situation. I hope you don't mind me telling them you're simply ill. I don't want word spreading too far about this. I don't think I need to tell you the ramifications if Voldemort were to know."

Harry could imagine the pain in his scar that Voldemort could cause by his glee, should he ever find out.

"We should still be able to continue our lessons in Occlumency, as that requires only the mind."

Blotch nodded. "You're still a moving target, Potter. You can expect our lessons to continue! And don't expect me to take it easy on you. You can still move around and think, can't you?"

Harry smiled and nodded at the defense teacher. He didn't like the sound of that.

"Until your powers return, Harry, which I believe they will, perhaps you would submit yourself to the study by a healer at St. Mungo's? Someone with a wider scope of knowledge than I." Professor Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded numbly. He was going to be _studied_. Smashing.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: A Brick Wall

"_I'm coming for you," Voldemort whispered in Harry's ear._

"_Don't worry."_

Harry bolted upright in his bed, and stumbled to the bathroom. He sat on the cold floor, with his head leaning against the shower door, breathing heavily. He hated having nightmares. This time, however, he chose not to look at his reflection in the mirror and instead took a few moments to collect himself.

He glanced at his watch. It wasn't time to get ready for breakfast yet. Looking into the dorm, none of his roommates were awake. The sun was out, but it was still too early to get anything done. He snuck back to his bed and crawled on top, luxuriating in the soft feel of the blankets. Compared to Privet Drive, Hogwarts would always be a paradise to Harry.

Harry noticed the book lying on his bed stand. He picked it up and thumbed through it, wondering if G. K. Gryffindor had anything to say about his problems.

_Magic exists all around us. It's our willpower that creates it. Muggles cannot use this power. The reason why is unknown. In my opinion, your blood doesn't make you magic. Magic chooses you._

_Anything about prophecies?_ Harry thought? He turned several pages and stopped at one paragraph.

_There was a time in my life when I foreswore all spoken magic. I consider this the greatest challenge for a witch or wizard. Magic is essential to our living, as it is an extension of oneself. _

It sounded like nonsense to Harry. He supposed Hermione could figure it out. Harry shut the book and put it in his bag.

Forty minutes later, Harry was dressed and showered. He walked through the labyrinthine passages of Hogwarts with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Hermione and Ron walked hand in hand. As they traveled, Harry stared at their entwined hands, lost in thought.

_Why are you going to class? _Snape's voice sneered. _Is the Dark Lord so insignificant a problem to you?_

Of course not. But… why _was_ he going to class? It would be of no use to him. His purpose in life was to destroy Voldemort, not get Outstanding on all his NEWT's. Students took NEWT's to get a job after they graduate. _You won't live that long. _Harry was beginning to think he wouldn't.

"What are you thinking about?" Ginny asked him. Ron and Hermione were now arguing far ahead of them.

"Life after Hogwarts," Harry said. He didn't want her to worry about him, if he told her his real thoughts. That he wouldn't survive this war.

"Ron told me you and him were going to be Aurors. But you can't do that without NEWT potions, so what are you planning now?" Ginny asked.

Harry couldn't ignore the fact that their hands and arms kept brushing against each other. "I don't know. I'm not that interested in Auror work. I feel like I'm already doing it." He laughed darkly at his own joke. "I think I'd rather take a boring desk job at the Ministry. If I survive, maybe I'll play quidditch."

"If you survive?" Ginny stopped walking and grabbed his arm. "You're going to be fine, Harry."

Ron and Hermione noticed that their two friends were lost behind them, and stopped to let them catch up. Hermione heard Ginny's last words, and ushered them all quickly into the Great Hall. Just as Harry was about to sit down, he saw Cho enter the hall hurriedly.

He remembered seeing her outside the library. Today, her hair was messily done in a ponytail. She wasn't wearing any makeup and there were bags under her eyes. Harry saw her sit by herself at the Ravenclaw table, which was largely vacated. The Ravenclaw's tended to eat their breakfast early, and then run off to class. Harry rarely even saw Cho in the morning.

"Hold on, I have to go check on something." He tapped the table, "don't wait for me."

He strolled over to the end of the Ravenclaw table, trying not to attract too much attention. He felt the eyes of his friends follow his every step. "Hey, Cho. Can I talk to you?"

Cho looked up in surprise. Now that Harry was closer, she looked a mess. Her eyes were bloodshot and her robes were ruffled. Life was not treating her kindly. She nodded and gestured to the seat next to her.

"Sorry, I don't mean to bother you, but you seem sort of…" Harry cleared his throat and waved his hand at her appearance, "upset."

Cho sniffed and nodded. Harry was disturbed that she had yet to speak, but waited patiently.

"I… well…" She looked around nervously. "There's something wrong with my family." Her last words were said in a whisper.

Harry furrowed his brow. "What's wrong?"

Cho, once again, glanced around. "I'll—Harry, I'll tell you later. Just… do you know that room near the Owlery? The large broom closet?"

Harry nodded, confused. "Yes."

"Meet me there, Friday, eight o' clock. I'll tell you then, but it's dangerous."

He nodded again, to confirm he understood. "Don't worry, Cho. I'm sure, whatever it is, that we can figure out a way to help you."

She smiled sadly at him and grabbed her bag. In a flash, she was gone, already out the doors of the Great Hall. Harry ran back to his friends and sat down, ignoring their stares.

"What was that about?" Hermione sounded unhappy.

"Nothing important." Harry grabbed a bit of toast and eggs. "Cho's been having some trouble with her family and I'm meeting her later this week to talk about it."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Do you talk to Cho _often_?"

"Hmm? No. It was just something that came up recently." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I ran into her outside the library when she was upset."

Ginny slammed down her fork and got up, not bothering to say goodbye. She ran out of the Great Hall. Harry watched her go, slightly hurt that she had not spoken to him. He turned to Hermione, who was scowling.

"What?"

"Oh, Harry, you can't talk to Cho!" Hermione sighed. "You just _can't_. You two have a complicated past and… oh! What about Ginny?"

Hermione ran away with a huff, chasing after Ginny. Ron and Harry looked at each other. Ron had missed most of the conversation, as he was both eating and talking to Dean about quidditch practices. That reminded him, he still needed to book the field.

"What's wrong with them?" Ron asked.

"No idea."

Today was also the day of Harry and Ginny's study session. He sat in their corner with his books open before him. He waited for her to appear. Finally, she came from the girl's dormitory, followed by Hermione, who gave him a warning glance before hurrying to class. She would be late now.

Harry watched Ginny sit down across from him. _Why is she so upset?_ He only talked to Cho for a minute, even less than that. She didn't think there was anything going on with them, did she? He almost laughed out loud at that thought. That boat had sailed long ago.

"Ginny?" Harry looked at her questioningly.

She sighed and opened her Charms book. "Don't ask, Harry, I'm just setting myself up for failure. Again."

"All right? Why are you doing that?" Harry wished Hermione hadn't left.

"Because I'm an idiot," Ginny huffed. "So are you and Cho a _thing_ now?"

Harry snorted. "What? Of course not? She's a friend. Not even a good one."

"Oh." Ginny remained quite. Their study session resumed. Harry saw her smiling while her quill scratched. At least she was happy again.

The two parted ways, on better terms than they'd met. Harry headed off to class. He expected most of the teacher's had received notification from Dumbledore about his lack of magical capability. In turn, they decided to substitute practicing practical magic for homework.

Harry returned to the common room that night with mounds of scrolls and assignments. He sighed as he dumped his work onto the couch in front of the fireplace, where he expected his friends would meet him soon.

He strode over to the Gryffindor bulletin and posted the times and dates for tryouts and quidditch practices. At least that was out of the way. He ignored his friends before and after his lesson with Dumbledore, going straight to work. They understood his irritation at being given extra work by his teachers.

In an hour, Harry was nodding off in front of the fire.

"_Kill the spare." _

Harry jumped. He couldn't sleep without doing Occlumency practice! He had nearly forgot. He also knew that voice had been sent to him for a reason. Voldemort knew it would shake him. Harry begrudgingly went upstairs to his dorm and lay down, going through the motions of Occlumency.

The end of the week came faster than he thought it would. Being overloaded with work made time pass quickly. During the past few days, being unable to do magic frustrated Harry beyond belief. It was almost as if he'd lost a third arm, and he was unaware of how much he used it until it had been taken away from him.

He used it to wake up in the morning. He needed it during class. He needed it to live. Harry imagined losing magic was like being weaned off an addictive drug. Desperation drove him to read more about Gyrffindor's experience without magic. It wasn't entirely unhelpful. It certainly gave him an appreciation of the discipline required to do such a thing willingly. Several times he had caught himself, reaching for his wand. Than realizing, as soon as he felt the soft wood in his hand, that he could do nothing. It didn't stop him from trying a few times, only to get the same result as always. Nothing.

Gryffindor lived two years without magic. Trying to derive from that a connection to the source of magic. She stated that magic was integral to wizard kind, as much a part of us as our body. A second soul, she called it. A third arm, Harry called it. Whatever it was, life was horrible without it.

He wondered if he was being punished. Punished for letting Sirius and Cedric die. Punished for his selfishness. The Dursley's never forgot to remind him that he should be grateful for being alive. That he deserved nothing. And if that was true, than he certainly didn't deserve the gift of magic. It was those thoughts that pervaded his mind, more often than not, his first week of school.

He asked Dumbledore on Thursday morning, during breakfast, if he'd still be able to ride a broom. Harry had thought that if he couldn't do magic, he certainly couldn't play Quidditch. He was fully prepared to step down from the position of Captain and hand it over to Ron. But Dumbledore only smiled sadly and said, "It shouldn't be a problem Harry, you're still magical."

He hadn't dared to mount a broom during tryouts. He wouldn't be able to bare it if he couldn't take off.

Friday evening was Harry's day off, from both Occlumency and Defense Against the Dark Arts training. It was also the night he would meet Cho… in a broom cupboard. Harry knew nothing would happen, and that it was only for privacy, but he left that part out of his explanations as he left the Gryffindor common room at eight o' clock.

He came to the broom cupboard in question, and quietly pushed the door open. Cho wasn't there yet, for which he was grateful, it gave him time to compose himself.

Harry sat down on a bucket and sighed. He wondered why he was here. Cho had been so cryptic earlier in the week. And he knew in his gut that Voldemort had something to do with it.

Suddenly, the door swung open and shut, rapidly, and Cho was there. She pulled out her wand.

"Lumos," She uttered. The small room lit up. Cho looked worse for wear, but Harry knew he couldn't judge. He hadn't exactly been looking him best lately, either. During a war, it seemed, personal appearances came last.

"Cho," He whispered and stood.

"Shh!" Cho said sharply. She muttered an incantation under her breath, and the door glowed pink, a silencing charm, no doubt. Harry was a little surprised and relieved that she'd taken that initiative. After all, he couldn't do magic himself. "Now we can speak freely. I know you're wondering why I asked you to meet with me, but I don't know where else to turn." Her voice was choked.

"Cho," Harry said. "What's happened?"

She looked around the small room and stepped close to him. Harry could smell her perfume she was so close. "_He's_ contacted my family."

There was no need to clarify who _he_ was.

"He's threatening them, telling them that we need to choose a side. You-Know-Who sent death eaters to talk to my mother and father, they're in the ministry you know. He's planning on overthrowing the ministry. They said, he's focusing on the wizarding government, then he's going to go after you, once everything's under his control."

"_Who _said?" Harry asked.

Cho gulped. "Lucius Malfoy, he's the one who came to us. My mother doesn't want to… but my father thinks that by joining him it will give us protection from the war." Tears were streaming down her face now. "My mum has gotten a port key to take her back to China. She's not speaking to my Father any more."

"An my roommates are all angry at me. He's pressuring Ravenclaw families. During the last war, apparently, he found a lot of supporters in Ravenclaw house. Ravenclaws make "the intelligent decision" as Malfoy put it."

Cho broke down in sobs and Harry patted her back awkwardly. So this has been what Voldemort's been focusing on.

"My father holds a lot of influence in the Department of Wizarding Travel. That's why he targeted us. I think… I _know_ if my father doesn't agree he'll lose his job. My mother wants to take me to China with her!"

"Don't worry, Cho, you can stay here, at Hogwarts." Harry pulled her into a one armed hug. "I'm sure Dumbledore will agree."

"You can't tell him I told you!" Cho was hysterical. "I don't want anyone to find out it was me. I don't want _them_ to know!"

"Well," Harry thought for a moment. "I'll tell Dumbledore what you told me, about how he's been contacting Ravenclaw families, and his focus on the Ministry. I'll try to leave you out of it."

"Don't tell him about me. I can stay at my Aunt's for the summer. It doesn't matter what I do, Harry." Cho pulled back from his shoulder. "You have to figure out a way to defeat him, Harry!"

Harry swallowed roughly. "It's not that easy, Cho. You know it's not. Cedric was ten times the wizard I was. All Voldemort had to do was catch him off guard." Cho stared fearfully at him. "Listen, Cho. Keep your head down and your ears open. I need you to tell me anything else you hear, _anything_. But stay out of trouble."

Cho nodded furiously. "I will."

"If you're worried about friends. You can always hang out with Luna. She's a nut case but can be pretty funny."

Cho looked horrified. "Er, no, Harry. But thanks for the suggestion."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I tried." He glanced at his watch. "It's late, you should be heading back to your dormitory."

Cho took a moment to collect herself. They both agreed it would be best if they were not seen in the tower together. Cho would leave first, followed by Harry, ten minutes later.

"Hey, Cho," Harry said, as she turned to leave. "Thanks."

Harry waited patiently for his time to leave the closet. He pulled out the Marauder's Map, conveniently in his back pocket. He watched her footsteps as they left the tower, and decided to wait a little longer, as he saw Filch prowling on the seventh floor, close to the Owlery. Cho was out of the way, but if Harry left now they would be sure to run into each other.

His mind whirred at the news he'd just received. So, Voldemort planned on overthrowing the Ministry. With Fudge in power, that wouldn't be much of a problem. Harry wished he had kept up to date on the Daily Prophet over the summer. The current state of the Ministry was a mystery to him. Perhaps he'd better owl Mr. Weasley.

With Filch now skulking on the fifth floor. Harry decided to go tell Dumbledore. Better late than never.

Harry's meeting with Dumbledore didn't go as he planned. It wasn't much of a surprise to him to know that Dumbledore knew Voldemort's focus was on the Ministry. He assured Harry he would do everything he could, as Headmaster, to settle the differences in Ravenclaw house. In the end, Harry concluded that there was nothing much he could do.

It was Tuesday that Harry regained his ability to use his "third arm", and in a rather unexpected way. It was lunch, when Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry decided to eat by the Black Lake. It was a chilly September day, so they donned their heavier cloaks.

Ron and Hermione sat together, holding hands. Ginny lay next to them on the grass, while Harry sat with his knees bent. The Black Lake would forever remind him of the second task.

He brooded darkly, thinking about the imposter, Crouch, and Rita Skeeter. That year had been eye opening for him. The wizarding world was not all it was made out to be. He had dealt with more persecution that year than any other year before. He had felt betrayed by Ron. Hermione was caught up in Victor. He barely even knew Ginny. Cedric died, and Voldemort rose again. Crouch tried to kill him. The Daily Prophet waged war against him and Dumbledore.

In conclusion, fourth year was not his best year. In fact, Harry thought his best year, so far, was his first year. The year he had been introduced to Hogwarts, discovered magic, and made his first friends.

Harry stared into the clear blue sky. He reached his hand out to the clouds overshadowing the sun. He closed his eyes and imagined warm weather, a clear sky and a shining sun. The strangest sensation overcame him. A shiver moved up his spine, and his arm tingled. It was as if a hidden part inside of him awoke, and extended itself through his hand, all the way to the sun.

All he had wanted was one more sunny day before winter. He hadn't meant to move all the clouds. The clouds simply moved with his hand. It was over before he knew it.

"Harry!" Ginny yelled. "What did you do?"

Ron and Hermione tore their eyes away from each other to look at the sky. "Harry, did you do that?" Ron asked, awed.

"Er, yeah, I guess I did." Harry said sheepishly, scratching his head. "Not purposefully of course. Well, sort of purposefully. I wanted it to be sunny out."

"Harry! Try a spell!" Hermione said.

Harry tried unsuccessfully to levitate a rock with his wand. It didn't work, as per usual. He sighed and turned to Hermione. "I'm sorry, I don't think I have control over it."

"Well, it was worth a try, Harry." Ginny placed a hand on his arm. Ron clapped him on the back and stood. Hermione sighed sadly. He knew they were anxious for him to get control of his magic again. But he didn't think it would be happening anytime soon. At least this was progress. He reached his hand to his bag, and slung it around his shoulder.

The walk to the castle was depressing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Here In September

Harry felt himself losing patience every day. His workload never lessened, his training never lightened up, and his hair never stayed flat. Occlumency seemed to finally be taking effect though, as he was able to successfully deflect Voldemort's attempts to enter his mind twice now. Harry bought Dumbledore brown woolen socks to thank him. In return, Occlumency practice was extended to another half hour each night. Harry always wondered what Dumbledore had been like as a professor, and deduced he would have been worse than McGonagall, only more cheerful.

Training with Blotch was brutal, but exhilarating. Harry found he enjoyed the rigorous dueling practice. Blotch extended to him no expectations. He wanted him to do his best, and never judged him for failing at a task. He gave him a second or third chance instead, something Harry relished.

It was one afternoon, the nineteenth of September, that Blotch called it quits. "Harry, there's only so much we can do without you able to use magic, let's take a break," he panted.

Harry wiped the sweat off of his forehead and nodded gratefully. Fighting with Blotch was like fighting with an Iron Man who knew he had that much muscle under his beard (which had grown a foot in the last two weeks). He had just finished teaching Harry numerous physical blocks and Harry could feel bruises forming on his arms.

"You know, Harry, you remind me of myself, in many ways." Blotch conjured two glasses of water between the two of them. "It's been many years since I've sat at a students desk, but I was very much like you when I was younger. Constantly fidgeting." He lightly kicked Harry's tapping foot.

Harry blushed and gulped his water. "I guess I do fidget."

"Hmph! You fidget, twiddle your thumbs and stare out the window. You're a horrible student, Harry, and don't forget that. It's not your fault though. I suspect you're bored. I was when I was younger." He sipped his water. "I was always looking for the next adventure. Chasing dragons and ancient relics. I was an unspeakable for a reason, you know."

Harry nodded to show he was listening. He wanted to know more about how Blotch came to be as he was today. "I went on the strangest missions, digging up graves and collecting magical artifacts. That was before I met my wife."

His eyes became distant and misty. "She was so different from me. She was quiet and reserved. We had a son together. Named him Charles."

"Did he go to Hogwarts?" Harry had never heard of the Blotch family. He suspected Charles graduated a long time ago, as the Professor looked to be in his sixties now.

"Once… a long time ago. He was a Hufflepuff," Blotch said.

"Hufflepuffs are loyal," Harry said, without thinking. "I had a friend who was a Hufflepuff." Cedric's face floating in his vision.

"He's dead."

Harry jumped. Had Blotch heard what he was thinking? Did he know he was thinking of Cedric?

"He died in the first war. Death Eaters set fire to the house in his sixth year, both him and Charlotte died. Never quite got over that. A friend had betrayed us, someone I considered to be a brother. Obviously not a Hufflepuff." He chuckled at his own joke.

"Oh." Harry didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine losing so much. He had lost his parents without knowing them. But the loss of a wife and son must have been unbearable.

"It happened a lot in those days, being betrayed by a friend. It was a time of chaos and paranoia. Nobody trusted each other. Those were dark times, Harry. I killed my old friend in bad blood." His face crumpled in pain.

"I left England. I vowed to never return and went into research for the Canadian Ministry. It was Dumbledore who convinced me to come back."

The Professor's eyes lit up and he turned to Harry, pointing at him. "And _you_. I know what you have to do, boy. And I wanted to help you." Blotch's eyes rested on his scar.

"Because, in helping you, I'm helping myself."

Harry closed his eyes. If only the Professor knew the weight he'd placed on Harry's shoulders. Now he had more lives to avenge, Cedric, Sirius, and Ing Blotch's wife and son. It was just too much for one person to handle. He felt his face scrunch and eyes chest constrict. Heat flooded the back of his eyes and he turned away from him.

"You remind me of Charles." Professor Blotch laid a hand on Harry's arm. "You remind me of my son."

That was the one thing Harry wished he hadn't said. Now tears came unwillingly. He tried to stifle them as best he could. He didn't like showing his emotions, especially to someone he'd only known two weeks. When he was younger he bottled them up and released them in his cupboard, hidden away form the world. But he just _had_ to say that.

The Professor patted him gently on the back and stood. "Come on, kid. Let's get to practice. Your hand-eye coordination is still barmy."

Harry gave a choked laugh. He stood up and downed the last of his water. The Professor took his stance across from Harry, his wand drawn. Before he could think to dodge, or block, Blotch shot a disarming spell at Harry. By instinct, Harry threw his arms up and felt a familiar shiver run up his spine.

A silver shield shimmered defiantly in front of him. Harry's jaw dropped.

"_Now _we're making progress." Blotch said, and kicked Harry's feet out from beneath him.

After their lesson, Harry couldn't stop grinning. He wore a goofy smile all the way to the common room. Blotch let him out early. So he was still in time for Hermione's birthday party, if you could call it that. Hermione had requested that they not make a big deal. But, since she was turning seventeen, and was aoflegal age, it was likely that she would receive many well wishes and gifts from her fellow Gryffindors.

He found Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, even Parvati and Lavender gathered around the couches. "Happy Birthday, Hermione!" Harry stooped to hug her and hand her his present, which he had kept hidden in the fold of his robes.

Hermione shied from all the attention. And blushed when Ron levitated a cake in front of them. They all sang "happy birthday" and cheered when Hermione cut the cake. He laughed when Hermione asked him if the cake was made by house elves.

Neville gave her a book his great grandmother wrote on Herbology, that she accepted with glee. Lavender and Parvati gave her a joint present of cosmetic charms for bush hair, which she accepted with fake enthusiasm, and an eye roll. Ginny gave her a handheld talking mirror. Ron's gift was given shyly. The glass piece was made into a picture frame, which shuffled through pictures of the trio at Hogwarts, from all their years. Hermione accepted it with misty eyes and a public kiss. Ron grinned, despite the catcall from Harry and the rest of Gryffindor House.

Harry's gift was last. He knew Hermione loved ancient runes, and managed to procure a necklace with the rune for luck on it. Hermione happily slipped it over her neck and hugged Harry. Harry's note was short and sweet.

Hermione,

I think of you like a sister. Happy Birthday. Now please edit my transfiguration essay, it's due tomorrow.

Love,

Harry

Hermione had laughed out loud and hit Harry on the shoulder when she read it.

It was late at night before Harry had the chance to read _Primal Magick_ again. He mindlessly memorized incantations, wondering if he would ever get a chance to use them.

The upcoming Quidditch match would be the first of the season. Harry was a bucket of nerves. It was the classic showdown between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but for some reason, Harry felt it was more than that.

If Gryffindor won, it would mean a lot more to the people at large. Voldemort came from Slytherin house. Although few people knew his true identity, it was public knowledge. Most of the Death Eaters were from Slytherin house. Defeating Slytherin on the Quidditch field would be symbolic, his classmates had hinted as much.

"You can do it, Potter."

"We know you'll beat 'em, Harry."

"Show no mercy, Potter."

It was more than Quidditch, this time. It was a political war Harry couldn't afford to lose. He could tell by the animosity in Draco Malfoy's eyes. McGonagall gave him a stiff nod the morning of the game. The team was decked out in Quidditch gear at breakfast, though Harry could stomach very little.

Harry decided it was a good idea to walk down to the pitch together, thinking it would foster team unity. In reality, it was a safety precaution, because the Slytherin table was sending them murderous looks.

In the Gryffindor changing rooms, Harry stood in front of them. He tried to remember what Oliver Wood would say, or even the twins. Drawing a blank, Harry decided to take a page out of Dumbledore's book.

"I only have a few words to say to you. Fly fast, avoid the bludgers, keep your eye out for each other, and don't forget who you're flying for."

Short and sweet. The Headmaster would be proud. Harry mounted his broom but paused at the grim and sickly look on Ron's face.

"And watch out for Ron fainting." Harry added. He heard them all give a half-hearted laugh before he closed his eyes.

This was it, the moment of truth. Harry kicked off and relief soared through his body. He could fly. He allowed the sensation to waft over him slowly. In the air, he felt free and invincible. His tense muscles relaxed and he gave a carefree whoop before he shot off.

"And here's the Gryffindor team. Oh, don't they look pretty in red?" Harry saw that Luna was still commentating, and gave her a friendly wave. "Oh, hello Harry. How are you today?" Harry rolled his eyes and gave her the thumbs up. Then he heard Madame Hooch blow her whistle.

The handshake between Harry and Draco was a battle of wills. Harry could hear a few of his knuckles crack under the pressure of the blonde's fingers. In turn, Harry smiled cheerfully and Draco, who sneered, but not before Harry could see his eyes widen. Harry continued to smile at the Slytherin team. He had learned that from Blotch.

The beginning of the game passed by in a blur as Harry soared high above the pitch, searching for that glint of gold. As he suspected, the Slytherin beaters were brutally attacking his team. He had to interfere a few times by flying into Crabbe and Goyle. Before ten minutes had passed, Angelina had broken an arm and Ginny had nearly fallen off of her broom.

It was rough, but he trained the Gryffindor chasers to be fast, and they quickly sped past the Slytherin chasers. Draco went for bulk, not skill, in his team. It was evident in the size of his teammates. Despite that, the game was close.

A half hour passed by slowly and there was no sign of the snitch. Gryffindor was behind by only twenty points. He grew impatient with Malfoy's constant trailing and scanned the grounds. He could tell Gryffindor team was exhausted. Ginny's throws were getting sloppy, and Ron's kept pacing in front of the goals, a sign of nervousness. Not to mention, the entire team was getting tired of the taunts and jeers coming from the Slytherin house. Harry signaled Madame Hooch and called for a time out.

"I thought you guys could use a five minute break," Harry told them on the ground.

Ron nodded appreciatively and flexed his pale hands. "I'm getting pummeled out there, Harry."

"The beaters won't lay off of us!" Ginny exclaimed. "We're constantly looking over our shoulders! It's difficult enough to focus on the game as it is!"

"I know," Harry said. "I want nothing more than to tell Malfoy to bugger off, but we have to stay in the game. Whatever you do, keep moving. Every time you stop, Goyle takes a swing at you. Keep flying, no matter what. Jimmy?"

He turned to his third year beater, a fierce player. "I need you to keep plugging away at Crabbe. He's the one who handles the moving targets. Ron and I will handle ourselves, both you and Roger have to protect the Chasers."

Hooch blew her whistle in warning, a sign that the game would commence again soon. Harry took off at the second whistle and began circling the pitch. His strategy was working, and soon Crabbe was more focused on dodging blugers than lobbing them. Gryffindor was ahead, 90-70, when he smelled the smoke.

Screams filled the air. Panicked, Harry looked down at the field. It was on fire. Hooch blew her whistle, but no one paid any attention. The bottoms of the stands were on fire, blocking the students from escape.

"Hermione!" Ron screamed past him, and grabbed Hermione from the stands, flying her to safety.

Harry had to act, and quickly. Dumbledore and the staff were already directing water over the stands, but it was dangerously close to the students in the Slytherin section. He knew he shouldn't have cared so much. But there were a few good people in Slytherin house.

Having made his decision, Harry flew to the Slytherin stands and leapt off his broom. He ran to the stairs where the fire had spread. The students were all pushed off to one side, crowding away from the fire. Slytherin Prefects were closest to the flames and shielding the younger students.

Harry faced the fire and held his hands out. He had no idea what he was doing but closed his eyes and thought of the day by the Black Lake. He felt, rather than saw, the fire die down. The heat left his face and he let out a sigh of relief. Opening his eyes, Slytherin prefect Adrian Pucey turned to him.

"Did you do that?" he asked Harry.

Harry, not knowing how to respond, nodded.

Pucey regarded him coldly. "You know this doesn't change anything," he spat and then turned on his heel to start ordering students around. The Slytherin house glared when they walked past Harry to get to the stairs.

Harry backed up to the wooden railing, trying to avoid eye contact. A few first years looked at him curiously. One even smiled at him before he was shoved by an upperclassman. Mostly though, he could see the pure loathing in their eyes.

Dumbledore's voice resounded throughout the pitch. "ALL STUDENTS WILL PROCEED TO THEIR DORMITORIES IMMEDIATELY."

All the flames had been put out by now. The staff was no congregating on the field, in front of the burnt section of the pitch. Harry grabbed his broom and flew above the crowd, to look down at the words etched into the Earth.

NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES

Damn it. He knew.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Law and Order

Harry stood in front of the mirror in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory. He slung his tie around his neck and began knotting it. However, it wasn't his reflection that gazed back at him.

Seventh year prefect, Tom Riddle, smirked at Harry. When Harry knotted his tie, so did Tom. When Harry shifted his feet, Tom did too. Harry wondered if this was his imagination, or if Voldemort was projecting an image through his mind. He slung his robe over his uniform and watched as the reflection did the same. The Slytherin insignia on Tom's left breast pocket writhed and wriggled.

"Harry, Dumbledore wants you in his office." Ron said, opening the door. "You missed your first class." He added, although Harry knew that already.

Harry nodded, so did Tom. He turned on his heel and left the dormitories, but before he left, he gave the mirror one last look. Tom smirked.

When Harry reached Dumbledore's office, he felt numb. Ignoring the reflection of Voldemort and Tom Riddle was maddening. This wasn't the first image of Voldemort he'd seen, either. He appeared on and off, throughout the month. The last time he'd seen it was during Herbology, in the pond water reflection. He had asked Neville if he could see anything. Neville responded in the negative, so Harry knew it was in his mind. But Harry also knew that his mind was Voldemort's playground.

Harry didn't bother knocking and strode into the Headmaster's office. Lately, he found out a lot more if he didn't bother knocking. Dumbledore sat in his cushy armchair. Fawkes trilled at Harry's entrance, and, sensing the boy's mood, swooped to land on his shoulder. He stoked the bird's long feathers, lost in thought.

"I thought you might like to see this morning's Daily Prophet." Dumbledore stretched over his desk to hand him the ruffled paper.

The headline read: SIEGE ON HOGWARTS. Harry scoffed and shook his head. "It wasn't a siege, he knew what he was doing. If he had wanted to blow up the Quidditch stands, he would have."

"I agree, Harry." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I believe that in this instant, Voldemort wanted to showcase both his power, and knowledge. And also, of course, instill a fear into the population. Quidditch, you understand, is cancelled this year. I announced it this morning, but you weren't down for breakfast."

How was Harry going to explain the reason that we was absent was that he was having a staring war with his own reflection? He opted not to mention it. "I understand, Professor. I would do the same thing."

"So now that he knows the prophecy, what's next?" Harry asked.

"I don't know if this truly changes anything, Harry."

Harry sighed. "How did he find out?"

"Sybil Trelawney, actually. I did not think he would venture so close to Hogwarts. As it is, she was missing from the Quidditch game yesterday. Normally, this is not unusual, as she prefers to look into her crystal balls during that time. Oddly enough, we found a correspondence between Professor Trelawney and an unknown person. This witch or wizard asked her to meet them in the Hog's Head during the game, to do a tea reading. She disappeared and reappeared late last night, frazzled and obliviated."

"But she didn't know the prophecy, she isn't aware of any real premonitions she makes…"

"All seers contain the knowledge, however, of what they predicted. It is locked somewhere in the depths of their subconscious. I shudder to think of what he had to do to retrieve it. Needless to say, Firenze the Centaur will be overseeing Professor Trelawney's classes until further notice."

Harry nodded and stood. "If that's all?"

"No, not quite yet." Dumbledore raised a hand to stop him from leaving. "You'll notice the Prophet mentions nothing of your heroic efforts to save the Slytherin stands from certain destruction. I'm positive that the Death Eater's had not meant to cause any true harm, but your efforts were valiant. I thank you, Harry."

Harry didn't feel valiant, he felt sick, but accepted the praise anyway. "I also want to ask you where your magical ability stands."

Harry explained his on again, off again relationship with magic lately, his ability to reach out with his 'third arm' and the incident with the shield in the DADA classroom. He mentioned the afternoon on the Black Lake, and his similar experience in the Quidditch stands.

"But no matter what I do, I can't cast any of the spells I know with my wand."

"Hmm." Dumbledore scratched his beard, and sucked on what must have been his fifth lemon drop during Harry's speech. "This is a puzzle I've never come across before, Harry. I do not know what to say, other than to keep hoping and trying. You have made progress." He raised his hand at Harry's protests. "Not the progress we were hoping for, but you are more in control than you previously were. I am confident."

"Now, I believe it's time for your second class."

Harry got to McGonagall's classroom sooner than he would have like. He handed her the note the Professor had given him and sat down next to Ron. Hermione nudged him and passed him her notes. He quickly copied them down and shoved his books and notes back in his bag afterward. Hermione gave him a disapproving glare. Ron just laughed.

He took out _Primal Magick_ and ran his hands over the worn and dusty cover. The day he found this book was the day before all this trouble with magic had started. Harry flipped to his bookmark and began reading, ignoring the looks Hermione was giving him.

_Focus on your magic. Wrap yourself around the object._

Harry chose the rock in front of him, that they were supposed to be transfiguring into a jug of water. He extended his hand and imagined wrapping his third arm around it. _Now pull_. He thought to himself. Harry yanked with his arm and saw the rock flying toward him. Harry realized, just as he was about to black out, that that wasn't such a good idea.

When Harry awoke, Ron was fanning his face. The transfiguration class was crowded around him. "Mr. Potter! Are you alright?" McGonagall asked.

Harry raised his hand to feel the welt forming on his face, and the scratch in the middle of it was dripping blood. "I feel fine." He smiled. "Better than fine."

He was pulled up by his two best friends and set on his feet. Ron brushed off his shoulder and laughed. "Summoning charm gone wrong?" He asked, having seen the entire scene.

"Yeah…" Harry chuckled. "I guess so. Isn't that something a first year would do? Guess I haven't gotten any smarter in five years."

Ron and Harry laughed together. The class dispersed, clearly disappointed the Boy-Who-Lived had only fainted over a charm gone awry. The few times Harry _had_ passed out during class were always interesting in the past. McGonagall chided him. "Five points from Gryffindor for your recklessness, Mr. Potter."

Harry grinned at her. He couldn't care less because he had just done magic. McGonagall was smiling also.

Harry would be meeting with the representative from St. Mungo's and Dumbledore, who would accompany Harry as his parental guardian, at six o' clock. He truly dreaded this meeting, even if this man was a friend of Dumbledore's. It wasn't enough he was subject to ridicule and humiliation all his life, now he was going to be a case study. There was still no guarantee they would find anything wrong with him.

At five to six, Harry left the common room to go to the Headmaster's office. He weaved through the hallways to the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore stood waiting for him, dressed in purple starry robes. He extended his hand, which held a large magnifying glass.

"Off we go." Dumbledore said.

Harry touched the portkey and felt the familiar pull at his navel. The air pulled him round, and finally he landed on his knees in what looked like a doctor's waiting room. Harry had only been to the doctor's once with the Dursley's. Petunia took him when he had broken his arm after falling out of a tree that Aunt Marge's dog chased him up. He didn't remember much, other than the doctor had been a kind woman, who gave him a lollipop.

Aunt Petunia had sniffed at that, and yanked it out of his mouth. "You don't deserve a treat, you got yourself into this mess." Harry had lain in his cupboard later, wondering what cake and chocolate tasted like. He had never been allowed them, until Hogwarts. Sure, he shouldn't complain. His childhood could have been much worse. It also could have been much better.

Dumbledore led Harry up several flights of stairs. A mediwitch passed them while making marks on a chart and mumbling to herself. When she looked up and saw the two of them, she jumped, and then rushed down the stairwell. No doubt she was surprised to see the powerful Albus Dumbledore and the Boy-Who-Lived.

When they reached their landing, Dumbledore pointed to a door on the far right. "Straight ahead and into room 536 Harry."

Harry looked uncertainly at his surroundings, not liking that the Headmaster intended to leave him.

"I'll only be a few, Harry. I'm going to visit an old friend here. You're perfectly safe here."

With that, Dumbledore turned and entered room 501. Harry saw a wood bed stand and a frail figure lying on the bed, before the door closed behind Harry, leaving him alone. Harry stared at the numbers for a moment, wondering who was behind the door, before he went to find his room. The door read:

MW LEMMINGS

Harry turned the knob to reveal an office. No one was present but a kneazle that was curled up in the corner. Harry closed the door tentatively behind him. "Hello?"

The kneazle yawned, showing his sharp, white, pointed teeth. He turned an eye on Harry, as if to say, "don't try anything". Harry raised his hands in defense. "I won't cause any trouble." He turned around in a circle to investigate his surroundings. Three of the four walls were covered in large shelves and the majority of the books were on magical medicine. The gold name plate on the desk said _Marcus Wilbur Lemmings MW, EMM. _On the one empty wall several diplomas were hung, one naming him a mediwizard, the other certifying him in Emergency Magical Medicine.

The door opened and a short, graying man entered the room. His head was stuck in a file and he only briefly glanced at Harry before heading straight to his desk.

"Mr. Potter, I assume." He said.

"Er-yes." Harry nodded. The man's shirt was wrinkled and creased while his pants were a worn out black. He had bushy gray eyebrows and a large mustache. His facial hair alone obscured most of his features. Harry could see, however, translucent blue eyes that stood out on his wrinkled face.

Harry spent the next twenty minutes answering questions that ranged from his age, his after hour activities, and his classes, to what he ate last night at dinner. The wizard wrote his answers down on a very large pad of green paper. The questions became more detailed as they progressed.

At the end of the interrogation, as Harry thought of it, Marcus Lemmings took out his wand. Harry noted, with curiosity, that his wand was made of gnarled and bent wood. He cast several spells over Harry, each one accompanied with a different sensation. One particularly nasty one made him feel as if bugs were crawling over his skin.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. You may go." The wizard Lemmings said, shuffling his papers and placing them in the large file.

Harry stood to leave, but hesitated, halfway out of his seat. "Er, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" The wizard continued to scribble furiously on his pad of paper, making notes in such cramped handwriting that Harry was sure it was illegible to anyone except the mediwizard.

"Do you know what's wrong?"

Lemmings paused mid sentence and slowly raised his head to meet Harry's gaze. Unsettled, Harry shifted in his feet. "Wrong? No nothing wrong. A significant change has occurred, absolutely. A wrong change? Not necessarily."

The old man sneezed suddenly and pulled out a handkerchief. "Sorry, m'boy. I hope you don't catch a cold from your visit."

"But…" Harry bounced on the heels of his feet. "What do you know?"

"I know that you are young, and healthy. I also know a certain enchantment has been placed on you. Something has been done to you, though your examination does not reveal to me anything." Lemmings shuffled through his papers. "Are you sure nothing of significance has occurred lately? Any new places you visit, people you see…?"

Harry thought immediately of the book, but kept his thought to himself, not certain how much he could trust this man, even if he was a friend of Dumbledore's. "I'm enchanted?" Harry asked, instead.

"Yes, a spell has been placed on you. Though I do not know the origin, or who has done it. I am truly mystified, Mr. Potter. Your symptoms that you, and others have given me are inconclusive. They are evidence, however," he stopped to give Harry another penetrating gaze "of powerful magic."

Harry gulped and nodded. "A-alright then."

The kneazle in the corner lifted it's head to give Harry another glare, reminiscent of it's owner. Harry scratched his head and left the room. The hallway was empty, gratefully. He reached room 501 and curiously knocked on the door.

Dumbledore appeared quickly and swiftly closed the door behind him. "All done! Fantastic Harry, one moment." He took out his wand and tapped the magnifying glass that he produced from his pocket.

"Off we go." The Headmaster smiled congenially and both professor and student were whisked away. This time, however, they landed on the dark threshold of Grimmauld Place.

Mrs. Weasley greeted him with a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Harry dear! How are you? How are your classes?"

Harry glanced at Dumbledore who was off to the side, speaking with the tall and dark Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Headmaster looked up and winked.

"Molly's been worried about you." Lupin wrapped one arm around Harry and gave him a side-hug. "She hasn't stopped hassling Dumbledore to see you."

Harry returned the hug gratefully, and subtly looked Remus over from his side. His hair was grayer than when Harry last saw him, but he looked fairly happy. His clothes were new, Harry noticed. From their last correspondence Remus had stated that he was working full time for the order, and Dumbledore insisted on reimbursing the younger man for his time. Remus tried to refuse, but the Headmaster was insistent.

"Harry, would you mind waiting for me here?" Dumbledore asked. "I'm going to floo back to St. Mungo's and have a word with Mr. Lemmings." With that, Dumbledore disappeared from the room, no doubt headed for the fire place.

"Didn't stop for tea, pity." Mrs. Weasley returned to bustling about the kitchen. "I'll make you a cup of tea and toast, you can go ahead and sit. Go, go." She ushered Harry toward the kitchen table. Remus followed and both Harry and he sat down to wait.

It took thirty minutes for Dumbledore to return to Grimmauld Place. In the meantime, Harry and Remus caught up with one another, and a few familiar faces popped in and out. The headquarters for the Order was full of activity, with many people working at once. Harry waved hello to Bill Weasley and Fleur DeLecour, who were visiting his mother for lunch. Tonks managed to sit down with him and inquire about school and Gryffindor house. Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded at him in recognition and Harry returned the gesture. He also acknowledged Mad-Eye Moody, who was staring suspiciously at the teacup in front of him.

It was strange to see the Order in action, as Harry was not a large part of it, though he considered himself an unofficial member. If he did offer to help, he would be turned down due to his age and questionable mental status. The argument had been had many times before between him and Remus, or Sirius, or Mr. Weasley, whoever would listen, really.

So here Harry was, in the center of the war, but placed far on the outskirts of any action. It was an unfortunate truth for him. The Headmaster was adamant that Harry remained out of the loop, for many reasons. For one, his importance in the war was too great to jeopardize, and two, his link to Voldemort put any information given to him… in danger of being revealed.

When the Headmaster did return, Harry was sitting with many members of the Order. He realized with a start that this was a meeting. When did that happen? It wasn't the full Order though, only a few members.

"Thank you for waiting while I had a chat with an old colleague of mine." Dumbledore smiled. "I understand you might be curious as to what he had to say on your condition Harry."

Everyone turned to look at him, but not Remus, who only squeezed his shoulder lightly. Harry felt indignant. Dumbledore had told all these people about his magical problems? Wonderful. Now everyone he knew was privy to his personal struggle with magic. He turned an angry eye on the Professor, but said nothing.

"Yes?" Harry said. No matter how cross he felt at the moment, he was interested in the verdict.

"Mr. Lemmings is a valuable ally to the Order, and also an old friend. He is truly the greatest wizard in his field, I trust his opinion above all others on this subject, and he seems to think that something more than a spell or enchantment has been placed on you, Harry."

"A curse of some sort?" Mr. Weasley asked. He was leaning against the kitchen cupboards casually. Harry hadn't even noticed him enter. Then he noted his position, and realized he was actually guarding the door.

"No, though that is what I believed." The Professor adjusted his glasses. "I had thought Voldemort had enchanted an object in your possession, Harry. Though I would not know how, and temporarily blocked your magic. My theory, however, begged the question of why. He has not been interested in you, lately, and his focus has been the ministry. Why hinder you if there was nothing to gain from it?"

"Upon review of his diagnostic spells, Harry, Mr. Lemmings has deduced that you have in fact, been _gifted _with another's magic."

Harry stared at the Headmaster. "What? What does that mean?"

"It means someone has given you their magic, Harry."

Silence met this proclamation, and Harry's mind was whirling. Who would do that? Wouldn't he have known if someone had given him their magic? When did that happen and how could he have missed it?

"… is that even possible? I've never heard of it!" Mrs. Weasley broke the silence.

"It is, in fact possible." Dumbledore nodded. "It is old magic, and can only be done while upon death. It also requires a vessel of transportation. It is also very powerful magic, and it has stumped both Mr. Lemmings and I. We wonder how this could have happened when there have been no traces of it at Hogwarts, or here."

_Vessel of transportation? Must have been the book! _Harry knew how it had happened. But something told him to keep this information to himself. Perhaps it was intuition, or perhaps it was stupidity. But he was going to find out for himself first whether he was correct.

"Harry, however, is only one person. His body went into shock initially, causing the displays of accidental magic, and since then has been slowly adjusting. Mr. Lemmings predicts Harry will fully come into his magic by the end of three months. He recommends, however, that you take it easy on your homework, Harry, and spent your time recuperating."

"Could Sirius have done it?" Remus asked, scratching his stubble.

"Possibly." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "He died in the veil, and could have enchanted an object before his death. I do not know. It is worth investigating. Did Sirius leave you any gifts in your will, Harry?"

All eyes returned to him. "No. He left the house and money."

"Could it be the house?" Arthur jumped away from the wall he was leaning on.

"No. It is too large and many people were in contact with it before Harry arrived." Tonks said.

"Is there anything you can think of, Harry. Anything at all?" Dumbledore gazed at him.

Green eyes met blue. For a second, Harry felt a probing at his mind and he immediately put up a barrier to his thoughts. The Professor gave him an apologetic look that Harry returned with a steady gaze. He felt righteous anger swell up within him.

"No." Harry said. "Absolutely nothing."

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room with purpose in his step. The rest of the meeting had consisted of the older members of the Order drilling him on any presents he had received lately. He had left, feeling used and angry. Only Remus had remained throughout the entire thing, silently offering him support with a hand on his shoulder, and warding off the more personal questions.

"Harry!" Hermione flew toward him, Ron in tow. "It's nearly midnight, where have you been!"

Harry quickly, and without hiding his anger and frustration, explained his whereabouts and the numerous interrogations he had been subject to. Ron gave him a sympathetic clap on the shoulder and a 'they were way out of line, mate'. For the next half hour or so, Harry blew off steam by venting to his friends. By the end of his tirade, he felt a lot better.

"How does someone give magic?" Hermione wondered aloud. Harry knew she would have noticed that, above anything else.

"Well, Dumbledore said it was old magic." Ron shrugged. "It's probably published in a tomb somewhere in an old library. It doesn't sound very safe, or practiced. Most old magic isn't used. A lot of it required sacrifices and ancient rituals. Didn't he say you had to be _dying_ to do it?"

Harry nodded. Now he really wanted to look at the book. "Hermione, did you find anything out about G.K. Gryffindor?" he asked.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Harry, do you think _she_…"

"It only makes sense," Harry said, pacing. "Everything started the day I found that book. Dumbledore said that the magic needed a vessel of transportation… that _must_ be it. If only there was a way to tell…"

"Oh, Harry." Hermione said. "I did some research on her. You going to be interested now that we know this…"

"What is it?" Harry asked, curious to find out more.

"Well, she died very young, she was only nineteen."

"What happened to her?"

"Harry, she…" Hermione bit her lip. "She was _murdered._"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Under the Bridge

"G.K. Gryffindor was a Hogwarts student. Her actual name was Greta." Hermione explained. "She graduated the year of 1900. She was very accomplished, top of her year, prefect and Head Girl. She was also, apparently very pretty."

"She was engaged to be married at nineteen, to Ashley Crouch. Don't laugh, Ron, Ashley is a boy's name too. But quit her job and left her fiancée to go to France and study at Beauxbatons. No one heard from her for a year. She returned to Hogwarts in the summer of 1903, to check out a book from the restricted section… they…"

Hermione paused, and shifted her feet. "One of the Professors at that time found her dead in the library. There was a lot of media coverage about the story. Later, they found out the reason she left was because she was receiving death threats from Marvin Gaunt. He eventually tracked her down and killed her. He confessed to the murder in front of the Wizengamot. They pronounced him mad and sentenced him to Azkaban. But that's not what's most interesting…."

Hermione stuck her right hand into the pocket of her robs and pulled out a yellow, frayed piece of paper. She handed it to Harry, who surveyed the clip from the Daily Prophet.

"… _June twentieth, at ten in the morning Greta Gryffindor was found dead in Hogwart's library… _It's her obituary." Harry said.

"Read what I've underlined." Hermione pointed to the area of the paper with her notes on it.

"… _Ms. Gryffindor was found in the Restricted Section in a pool of her own blood, having been stabbed to death… _If she was found in the restricted section, she would have had hid the book there."

"And if she was…" Hermione swallowed. "… stabbed, she would have died slowly, giving her time to… hide the book and cast her final spell."

"But that still doesn't answer the question of _why?_" Harry exclaimed. "Why would she put her magic in a book and just leave it there for anyone to take!"

"I think it's obvious." Ron scoffed. "If Gaunt was the one to kill her, and she knew it, she probably wanted revenge. They were the descendents of Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"When Gaunt confessed to the murder, he told the Ministry he was proud to finish the work of his forefather's. Greta Hannah Gryffindor was the last of the Gryffindor line. He thought it would be _glorious_ to kill her. That's when the Gaunt family left wizarding society, and were disgraced. Greta was well loved in the public eye."

"She hated Slytherins," Harry added. "She wrote as much in her book. I would too if I were constantly receiving death threats. She must have wrote it abroad in her research years."

"And when you touched it, you received her power." Hermione finished. "You must have been drawn to it by her magic! She would have wanted you to avenge her by destroying Voldemort, the last heir of Slytherin! Don't you understand Harry? This all makes sense! She called to you from her grave! This is the power the Dark Lord knows not!"

Ron clapped a hand over her mouth. "Hermione!" he said in a hushed voice. "Not so loud!"

But Hermione couldn't have cared less. She was way too happy to have solved the great riddle. "Harry," she said, pulling Ron's hand away, but continuing in a quiet voice. "You have to read that book very carefully! Something in there can defeat Voldemort! Something that only Greta could do!"

"Not much use if he can only use a summoning charm." Ron stated. "Don't you think you should focus on getting your full power back? We can worry about the book later."

"Ron might be right, Hermione." Harry said with a sigh. "Dumbledore and Lemmings suggested I focus on recovery. I can't do anything in that book without my magic back. It's all powerful magic."

Hermione looked disappointed. "I suppose you're right, Harry. But it doesn't stop you from simply reading it, does it?"

Harry had to agree with her on that point. It couldn't hurt to just read the book.

With the revelation of the true meaning of the Prophecy, Harry was relieved. October came and went, and the Halloween feast was upon them. For Harry, it was not only Halloween, but the anniversary of his parents death. He felt it was almost sacrilegious to celebrate that evening. So, he devoted half of that day to quiet thought, speaking very little, and immersing himself in his own feelings.

If his friends noticed he was quiet they didn't mention anything. Ron and Hermione both knew the significance of the day, and knew it would mean more to Harry in light of recent events. Sirius' death had hit Harry hard, and he only needed a small reminder of the many losses in his life to send him into a depression.

In the common room, Harry flipped through the picture book Hagrid had given him. He sat with his books laid out in front of him. One book in particular was under his elbow. He had kept true to his promise to Hermione, and began studying the research of G.K. Gryffindor more closely. Unfortunately for Harry it was a several thousand page book, and he was nowhere near complete. Every time he turned the page, it seemed another one appeared. It was also heavy to carry around with him everywhere.

On the bright side, Harry's magic was returning. He had regained the use of simple spells and charms. His relationship with Dumbledore was still tense due to the incident with the Order, and their office lessons were strained. Blotch and Harry continued advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts at night. With Harry's regained use of magic, the Professor had taken to teaching him rare and more complex hexes and curses. Harry knew though, in the back of his mind, that the answer to all of his struggles lay in _Primal Magick_.

Harry flipped to the page of his parents wedding, with Sirius as the best man. "Hello, Harry."

Harry looked up and saw Ginny. He couldn't help but think how pretty she was in front of the fire. "Hey, Gin." He moved to make room for her against the couch.

She sat down and leaned against his left side, something Harry couldn't help but notice. She rested her head on his shoulder and they turned pages together in silence.

"They died today," Harry said. "I feel like… like I should remember them, especially now. In fact, right now, sixteen years ago, my father could have been in a fight to the death with Voldemort."

He looked at the clock. "Or maybe he was already dead at this time. I don't know what time they found me. I know Sirius was there… Hagrid took me on Sirius' flying motorcycle. He dropped me off on my Aunt's porch." He snorted. "I bet she liked that."

Ginny squeezed his hand. "Harry… I know your relatives were horrible to you. Ron's told me as much."

"I know." Harry turned his face away from her and the fire. He ran his hand over the cover of _Primal Magick_. "It wasn't that bad. It could have been much worse."

"I wish I could have been there for you." Ginny said quietly. "One day you won't ever have to go back there again. And some day you'll have your own home."

Harry thought the idea was almost laughable. He wondered where his parents lived before Godric's Hollow. Did he have an ancestral home, like the Malfoy's and Longbottom's did? Was there a Potter Manor out there, somewhere? Probably not. Where did his father grow up and spend his childhood? These were all questions he should have been able to ask his father, but would be unable to.

"I don't know, Ginny." Harry shrugged. "I don't know. For now, Hogwarts is my home."

"You're very pretty, you know." Harry told her. He saw her blush and she buried her head in his shoulder. He liked doing that to her lately, and laughed. "It's true."

"Thank you, Harry." She laughed too. "So I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

Harry felt butterflies in his stomach. They were alone in the common room, at night, and she wanted to talk. He hoped she didn't want any sort of commitment from him, because he didn't think he could handle that at the moment.

"What's on your mind?"

"Well, a few of the members of the DA were wondering if you were going to start practices again. Neville's been asking me to talk to you. Ron and Hermione didn't want to put extra stress on you, so they didn't think it was a good idea, but I always got the impression you enjoyed DA."

Harry had thought about this a lot since the beginning of the year. It had occurred to him to start meetings again, but with Quidditch he didn't think he would have had time. Now that that was over, why not?

"Actually, I think that might be a good idea. Give me some time to think about a few things, alright?" he asked. On a whim, he removed his hand from her. She sighed disappointedly but gasped in surprise as his arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her to him.

"Thank, Gin… for being so patient." Harry said. "I don't know why you put up with me."

Ginny laughed and moved even closer to him, if that was even possible at this point. "Anytime, Harry."

They stayed that way for a long time, sitting in front of the fire. Eventually, Ginny nodded off on his shoulder. He woke her up closer to midnight, figuring it was about time both of them went to bed. She yawned sleepily and they both headed back to their beds. They parted at the bottom of the stairs, slowly.

Harry had a gut feeling the worst was yet to come.

The next day at breakfast, Harry received a short missive from Dumbledore.

Harry,

Mr. Lemmings was found dead in his London home. Please join me in my office, you are excused from your first class.

A.D.

Harry only briefly registered the informality of the Headmaster's note. He excused himself from his friend's company and hurried up the steps of the castle. _This is your fault…_ He chided himself. He ran over Lemmings meeting in his head. Who knew?

Who knew he was going there? The few Order members he did know ran through his mind. Who had betrayed their confidence? Lemmings didn't deserve to die, he was trying to help Harry. Who knew he was meeting with Harry? He strode into the Headmaster's office and stopped short.

Here was the infamous Albus Dumbledore. His beard was tangled and his hand cramped over a letter he wrote quickly. His clothes were rumpled and the air felt oppressive. Most of the blinds were closed and the room felt dusty. Harry once again, felt the reality of the Headmaster's age. He acknowledged Harry's presence with a nod.

Harry sat. It occurred to him the answer to his question from earlier. The nurse they had seen in the hospital. Yes, that had to have been it. She had been surprised and nervous to see them. He really could trust no one. His presence alone was dangerous. He voiced his thoughts and Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, Ms. Clara Greens thought it would buy her amnesty from the upcoming war. She has not been found since the other day."

Harry nodded. Dumbledore handed his now finished letter to Fawkes, who took it with a sad trill and burst into flames, leaving the office in an uncomfortable silence.

"Harry I'm afraid I have not been offering you the best protection. Nor your friends. It is perhaps, in your best interest to discontinue your education here, as much as it pains me to say so. I will be calling a meeting tonight at Grimmauld Place to discuss our best course of action. Tell me, Harry, are you at all adverse to the Fidelius Charm?"

"No, sir." Harry's mind was reeling. He was leaving Hogwarts. Leaving his home. His sanctuary.

Of course, the more Harry thought about it, the more it made sense. He was only expected to be here during the year. Voldemort knew that. If he ever left, Voldemort would know that too. Whoever he came in contact with outside of Hogwarts would be in danger, just as Lemmings was. Hogwarts was a refuge, and a cage. He could never leave it if he stayed here.

He could see it now, dark forces closing in around the castle. Guards stationed at every door. The one place Voldemort knew he would be. It couldn't come to that.

"Where will I go?" Harry asked.

"I have several ideas, Harry." Dumbledore stood slowly. Harry could not help but think that he had grown even weaker. His pace was dangerously slow and the Headmaster turned to face the window. Harry knew, suddenly, that the Professor was trying to save face. He didn't want Harry to know how weakened he had become. But Harry knew.

"Until the meeting, nothing can be known for sure."

Harry nodded. He stood. "I have to go pack my things."

Harry felt faint as he walked through the castle. The only home he had ever known. Familiar faces passed by him. Neville said hello, but Harry barely responded. He passed the corner where Fred and George had accosted him one time. A broom closet Harry, Ron and Hermione had hid in to avoid Filch. Harry briefly mused how overjoyed Filch would be to learn that Harry Potter was gone.

Harry was leaving Hogwarts… forever?

If the war continued on outside of the walls, and he died, it only made sense that he would never get the chance to see Hogwarts again. He felt his heart wrenching and a strange stabbing sensation filled his guts. This was it, the beginning of the end.

Harry reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He stood and stared at her as she berated him for the password. "Flobbergums." Harry conceded finally. Ron was waiting for him in front of the fire. He held a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. Harry took it silently and read through the list of missing persons from the Ministry, the obituary of Mr. Lemmings, and the inflammatory article written, not by Rita Skeeter, but by another unknown name.

Ron broke the silence. "Rita's been fired, apparently. Dad told me that they've replaced her with someone who has a more 'favourable' view on the war. The division that runs the Daily Prophet has had a change in leadership."

"So they've started taking over." Harry said. "There's no denying it." Harry took a deep breath.

"I have to leave Hogwarts."

Ron only hesistated a moment. "I'm coming with you."

There was a time when Harry would have fought Ron relentlessly. He would have tried to talk some sense into him. As it was now, Harry couldn't imagine it any other way. He had expected Ron to come along.

Now that he thought about it. Ron was one of the only people on Earth he could truly trust. A friend until the end.

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked.

"She'll come too." Ron stated, he seemed utterly sure of it. Harry nodded and they waited on the couches for her to return. When she did, she didn't seem surprised to hear that Harry was leaving. Only sad.

Before they spoke, Harry cast a silencing charm around their group. There were no onlookers or students skipping class, but he wanted absolute security.

"No one can know where we're going," Harry said. "They'll notice we're gone at some point… but I'm beginning to think…" He trailed off.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked. She grasped his hand. The trio sat close to each other in the empty common room. Harry had never felt safer, and in more danger, at the same time. He was with Ron and Hermione, the two people he loved more than himself. His friends, the only friends he had ever had.

He remembered meeting Ron for the first time aboard the Hogwarts Express, and fighting the troll in first year, all for Hermione.

Harry nodded his head. "I think we should leave tonight, and not tell anyone. We should disappear for a while, and gain the upper edge on Voldemort, before it's too late. This isn't the kind of war we can fight in the open. He's made that clear. We need to do this on our own. We can't tell anyone."

If Ron or Hermione disagreed with him, they didn't say anything, only nodded. Hermione was crying quietly, letting tears slide down her cheeks. Ron's jaw was set in a determined line.

"Where will we go?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Down The River

Harry had very little friends in the wizarding world. He had only a handful he could count. Among that handful was the House Elf, Dobby. He had first met Dobby in his second year, when he tried to save Harry's life from certain danger by attempting to dissuade him (in impractical and ridiculous ways) from returning to Hogwarts.

Over the years Dobby had grown in Harry's eyes, and he now had a high amount of regard for his short, strange little friend. He very much esteemed the quirky House Elf.

It was with these feelings, that Harry called for Dobby in the Gryffindor common room. He briefed Ron and Hermione on his plan.

It wasn't foolproof, nor was it in any way the greatest idea he had ever come up with. It began the other day with his thoughts on his ancestral home. He was, technically, from a pure blood line. His mother was muggleborn, sure, but from what he'd heard his father's family had been well known, and rather prominent.

Thinking of this, Harry deduced that they must have owned property. He also knew that all pureblood families were interrelated and somehow involved with one another. Harry was going to rely on Dobby's knowledge of the pureblood world to gain more information on the whereabouts of such a place.

"Master Harry Potter, Sir. Dobby is at your service." Dobby bowed so low his long and slightly bent nose touched the ground, and his hat (knit by Hermione) nearly fell off. Harry reached over to straighten it.

"Dobby." Harry said through his teeth. He wasn't angry at him, just filled with a nervous energy. "I have a favor to ask of you."

Dobby nodded eagerly and began to stammer out his happiness at the opportunity to assist the 'great' Harry Potter. Harry waved a hand, which sent the elf into silence.

"Before I say anything Dobby, I need to know that I can have full confidence in you. No part of our conversation can ever leave us four. It's very important that no one catches wind of this, not even the Headmaster or the Minister."

"Harry Potter can have full faith in Dobby, sir. Dobby will not speak a word." Dobby spoke these words so seriously, and had such a hardened glint in his eyes, that Harry knew he could believe him.

"Dobby, do you know of any ancestral home of my family?"

Harry knew Dobby could not have anticipated the question and waited for the House Elf to think.

"Or for that matter…" Hermione interjected. "Do you know of any uncharted manors or houses, no longer in use? A hidden place? Perhaps a pureblood manor that has been abandoned or forgotten?"

Harry shifted in his seat. "I know Dobby, that the House Elves have served the wizarding world, for so long, and so well," Dobby puffed a little at these words. "Surely there are records of places or… or a family history? Has your family always worked for the Malfoy's?"

"Most history is passed on by word of mouth, Mr. Potter, Sir." Dobby said, almost regretfully. "History is kept in families, and a House Elf would never betray his family's secrets or hidden locations. But Dobby knows of some things, Mr. Potter."

Harry leaned closer to the Elf. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder and wordlessly cast another protection charm around the group. Harry nodded gratefully, knowing that his had most likely worn off by now.

"Dobby knows a friend, Sir. In the kitchens of the school, who's family served yours, Mr. Potter, Sir."

Dobby disappeared with a pop and reappeared with an older looking House Elf. The House Elf, who was introduced as Reginald, did not appear to be pleased to be pulled from his work in the kitchens. He did, however, straighten in the presence of Harry, Ron and Hermione and remembered to bow.

He was balding, and wearing a green work shift. His shift bore the insignia of Hogwarts, though it was stained with what Harry assumed to be flour and grease. His ears were stuffed with cottony white hair and his skin was sagging underneath his chin.

"Reginald worked for Potter's, Mr. Potter. He would know of such a place." Dobby squeaked excitedly.

Reginald turned what might have been a withering stare on Dobby. However, his bright blue eyes were intercepted with Harry's. Harry silently pleaded to him and it appeared to be received by the older House Elf.

"How can I be of service, Master Potter?" His voice was raspy, as if he spoke very little.

"We were wondering if you knew of any home my family had?" Harry asked. "Or if there was any other hidden location that House Elves knew of."

The House Elf blanched and shook his head. "I'm afraid that Potter Manor was destroyed many years ago, in the first war with… You-Know-You. The Master and Mrs. Potter were killed, and the house destroyed. I barely escaped with my life, young Master. After that, I was offered sanctuary here at Hogwarts."

"If you're inquiring to know more, the goblins handled most of the family affairs, I would look there." Reginald nodded his head. "Yes, crafty creatures. Not loyal or kind, but knowledgable."

"Do all the House Elves that come to Hogwarts come from other families?" Hermione asked.

Reginald turned his head to her and nodded, his chin quivering. "Yes, most do. Though one or two are from Hogwarts themselves. Before that, I know not."

"Most House Elves have their history passed down orally." Dobby chimed in. "My family has worked for generations for the Malfoy's. Until now."

Reginald looked at Dobby disapprovingly, but said nothing. Dobby looked very young and ridiculous compared to the sterner, more aged Elf.

"Could you please call for one of the original House Elves," Hermione asked. "One with the most knowledge of the history of Hogwarts. Or someone who used to work for a deceased family?"

Reginald gave her a strange look. Dobby just bowed to her and disappeared with a pop. The elderly Elf sighed wearily and addressed Harry one more time. "It was a pleasure to see you, Master Potter." Then he too, disappeared.

"Do you think it's possible one of the elves knows of a place we can hide?" Ron asked. "If it's a pureblood place, though, You-Know-Who will know where it is. These older houses have so many booby traps and protective wards placed on them, from centuries ago. Someone will know we're there."

"Our only shot is a place that someone has forgotten about." Harry replied. "Or a place no one knows exists, even if it is a pureblood house. We haven't got much of a choice, Ron. We can't go to Grimmauld Place, the Order is there, and they've been infiltrated by spies before. Peter Pettigrew betrayed my parents easily enough. The fewer people we trust, the better."

"If we went to your family, Ron, or yours Hermione, that would put them in danger. We can't go to the Ministry, Hogwarts is too obvious a place, and it's right on Voldemort's radar."

"We have to go to a place he doesn't know. Someplace no one would bother to look." Harry scratched his chin, thinking.

"When you think about it, it's rather brilliant to ask the House Elves, Harry." Hermione said. Harry and Ron turned to look at her, both incredulous. "It's something Voldemort would never think of himself. They're too far below him to be of any concern."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "And Dobby practically worships you, mate." Ron laughed and trailed off as a bunch of fourth year girls entered the common room. They waited for them to move up the stairs before relaxing.

Dobby returned, this time without Reginald, and with a new elf. She was shorter than Dobby, and had wide brown eyes. She was also much younger than Harry expected.

"Penny at your service, Mr. Potter, Sir!" She squeaked. Her voice was so high pitched Harry almost had to cover his ears. "Mr. Potter wants to know of secret place?"

"Er… yes, Penny, that would be great." Harry said. "Do you know of someplace?"

"Yes! Penny's family work for many years in Hogwarts. But they never forget where they come from. We worked for a very important family, yes sir. And we never forget their kindness sir. Very rich family, sir. Very rich. But small, and they die many centuries ago. So small a family. They leave their home and never return. So long ago, no one remember them! It is a very sad story, Mr. Potter."

"Would you mind telling it to us, Penny?" Hermione goaded.

Penny blushed and bowed. "Of course! I learn this story from my mother, who learned it from her mother. Many years ago we worked for family Frewer. A pureblood family, as any. They were rich and well known. For many years they prospered, until one generation spent the family riches and they slowly fell into ruin. One brother died in war while the other wasted away with sickness. The last brother abandoned the house, alone and without family. He sell the Elves to Hogwarts to pay off last of family debts. Alone he lived, and alone he died. But he made Penny family swear to never destroy house or land, the last remains of his family. They remain forgotten and secret to the world."

"Penny, is there any way we can go there?" Harry asked, eagerly.

"Penny don't know. She visit only once, when she was very little. She remember how to appear there, but not where it is. All of Penny's family remember how to get there, but its location remains hidden."

"We have to try…" Hermione said. "Penny, how long ago was this, what was this place called?"

"Penny know not how long ago, only that this story told many years ago. It was passed for many generations. My grandmother called it Tourlaville."

"Do you think you have it in you to take us there, Penny? Can you take us to Tourlaville?" Harry didn't like the desperate edge to his voice.

"Well…" Harry knew he was asking a lot.

"We will never map it, or show anyone else it's location. This remains between us. It would offer us a place to hide from Voldemort."

"The evil wizard?" Penny's eyes grew wide, and she took this news heavily. Finally she nodded her head.

"I can take you there, Mr. Potter. The Frewer wizards are all gone, it would only be right."

"Thank you, Penny." Hermione smiled, they all sagged their shoulders with relief. "We promise to protect it, and never reveal it to anyone else."

"Thank you Masters!" Penny bowed.

"Will you meet us in the kitchens, at midnight Penny?" Harry asked.

"Penny would be happy too, Mr. Harry Potter!"

The rest of the day was painful for the trio. Harry, Ron and Hermione agreed it would be best to pretend nothing had transpired. So, they attended classes under the pretense of their normal daily routine. Harry found it increasingly difficult to be around Ginny.

He knew they had grown close over the last few weeks. He knew she would be shattered once he left. He hated himself, but he couldn't ask her to leave with him. They hadn't known each other that long and Harry would be putting her in a danger she did not fully understand. Ron and Hermione had been with him through hell. They had fought with him, cried with him, and guided him through certain doom.

He knew Ron and Hermione were willing and stubborn. They were his only friends on this Earth. Ginny was a friend, and at the same time she was something else, something that Harry didn't understand and didn't want to.

Harry watched her at dinner, not touching his food. Dumbledore and some Order members, even Snape, were gone to the meeting. Harry scoffed. Little did they know, he wouldn't be at Hogwarts when they returned.

In the common room, Harry and Ron waited for the boys in their dormitory to fall asleep, before casting a few silencing charms. Harry's magic came easily to him now that he wasn't thinking. In fact, over these last few days it had become much easier to perform spells.

Harry packed _Primal Magick_ in his trunk. All of his school books and clothes. He dressed for the cold November weather, and not knowing exactly where they were going frightened and thrilled him. He had never run away from home before. He felt sneaky and dirty, and at the same time comforted and encouraged by the presence of Ron and Hermione.

Ron and Harry shrunk their trunks and bags. Both slung their broomsticks over their shoulders. Harry noticed Ron had had the foresight to dress for colder weather too. "When we're in the kitchens we should get some food. And supplies." Ron stated.

Harry nodded and they both quietly descended downstairs. Harry and Ron left their beds, for the first time, clean and made. It was a solemn sight.

They met Hermione at the base of the stairs, already waiting for them. The trio proceeded to the kitchens. The walk through Hogwarts was quiet. Each hallway was dark and silent. They never ran into Filch, ghosts, any prefects or professors, or Filch's cat. Harry had already gone to the Owlery earlier and Hedwig had been informed of his plans. He also gave her two letters to deliver upon his departure.

One was addressed to Professor Dumbledore, and the other to Ginny Weasley. Ron had left a note to his parents on his bed. They had all agreed to keep it short. Stating they had gone, and that they were safe. Don't make contact and don't send owls. Hermione planned on never informing her parents. She confessed to Harry that she planned to obliviate them of their memory as soon as she had a chance.

Harry wondered if he should do the same to the Dursley's. He knew that Hermione loved her parents. She loved them so much she was going to erase herself from their memories to ensure they would be in no danger.

In the kitchens, Hermione stopped Ron and Harry and waved her wand over both of them. "There." She smiled.

"What did you do?" Ron asked. Harry felt a strange tingling feeling run over his body.

"Since I'm of age, I haven't got the Ministry trace of underage magic on me." Hermione explained. "I've been researching it these last couple of days and realized any place we'd go they could track us. So I decided to dabble a little bit…" Here, she cleared her throat and blushed. "With a little bit of help from Fred and George I've discovered a way to remove the trace, but it has to be placed on something else."

"Something else… like what?" Harry furrowed his brow. "A teapot?"

"Well…" Hermione pulled two furry things out of her pockets.

"Hermione you can't be serious." Ron's mouth twitched. "You're going to put our trace on two rats?"

"Well, this way if they track you, you'll be seen as being at Hogwarts. They'll be none the wiser. They'd most likely think that Dumbledore was hiding us somewhere in the castle."

Harry grinned widely and laughed. "That's brilliant Hermione."

After some complex magic by Hermione, they released the rats onto the floor, where they sat, rather stunned, before scurrying off in different directions.

"Master Potter?" Penny stood before them, nervously darting her eyes around the room. "It is nearly midnight."

Harry, Ron and Hermione stood close to the House Elf. She reached her hand up and they all grabbed hold of her. Dobby stood close by and before Harry left, he nodded to Dobby. Penny would be obliviated by Dobby when she returned, and would never remember what she did that day. Harry felt bad, but it was the only way. Reginald's memory had already been erased.

"Ready?" Ron and Hermione nodded the affirmative. Harry felt the familiar pull at his navel. Elf magic was different, Harry realised. He felt like he was being pulled backwards instead of forwards. He saw lights and colors fly by and felt the trio leave the wards surrounding Hogwarts. He could feel himself flying through space and time.

They landed with a small thump in a grassy clearing, it was sprinkled with frost and a little snow. Harry looked at the forest around him, puzzled.

"Harry," Ron nudged him. "Turn around."

Harry spun quickly and came face to face with an abandoned garden. It was overgrown and covered with vines, but the original foundation was still there. Harry, Ron and Hermione bid farewell to Penny, who disappeared, before following the stone pathway to the looming building in the distance.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: December

_A.D._

_I've left Hogwarts after our discussion the other day. For everyone's safety I have not informed anyone of my departure. I've taken Ron and Hermione with me. I'm afraid I do not trust everyone in the Order, which is why I didn't wait for the verdict last night._

_I've realized how easy it is to be betrayed. It happened just the other day. Unfortunately, Voldemort has spies where no one can predict. I'm taking a leap of faith with this letter because I know you, of all people, deserve an explanation._

_Thank you for everything you have done, Professor. I'm always going to be in your debt. You gave me a home when I had none, and you did your best to protect me. Thank you. _

_Only send important news. Send it with Fawkes, Hedwig is too recognizable. I have found the power he knows not. Destroy this letter, if you would._

_H.P._

_Mum and Dad,_

_Hello, it's Ron. Lately things have been a little barmy, and I know I've put you through the loops. Well, I've left with Harry to fight You-Know-Who. I'll be safe most of the time, and I'll try to stay in touch if I can. Don't owl me, I'll contact you. Take care of Ginny and Pig. It would be best if your burn this letter. _

_Love,_

_Ron_

_Gin,_

_You know by now I'm gone. You're probably in Dumbledore's office and he's handed you this letter. I didn't want to leave, but you have to understand, I had to. I wanted to take you with me, but I couldn't. There are a lot of things I should have done before now. Tell Neville to start D.A. meetings again, you and him are in charge. You'll find the coins used to contact people underneath Hermione's bed. _

_I really wanted to be with you, Gin. I did. I'll do my best. _

_Try to destroy this letter. If you don't, I understand. I've kept everything you've ever given me._

_Harry_

Harry sat on a rickety wooden chair in the corner of Tourlaville's dining hall. He had on two pairs of sweaters, both made by Mrs. Weasley, a hat and scarf in Gryffindor colors, and two pairs of grey socks underneath his black shoes.

Harry did not honestly expect the cold draft in the lower corridors. The trio only inhabited a few rooms, three bedrooms they chose close to one another, a dining area and the library located on the second floor. More often then not they fell asleep together in the common room they established nearby to their rooms and the library.

Living without assistance was more difficult than Harry could ever have imagined. The cold was one recurring problem that refused to abate. The first few days Harry and Hermione were forced to run around the castle sealing broken stone and insulating doors and windows. Furniture needed to be mended and charmed into a more comfortable condition. Most every room was covered in dust and sometimes vegetation.

Despite the difficulties, Harry felt that Tourlaville held some hidden wonderment to it. Each stone held history and age, and the air felt fresh. Ron guessed they were somewhere far north in Scotland, closer to the mountains. In fact, the roof held a breathtaking view of the surrounding woods, carved peaks and a nearby river (though it was too far to journey to, too cold, and possibly outside of the protective wards).

Harry realized, with a start, it must have been close to Christmas. A month had surely passed since they first left Hogwarts. After the first week of scrambling, to ensure survival, a roof and reasonable comfort in a millennia old manor, the trio was left without direction or guidance, free to fight the forces of evil as they saw fit… if only they knew how.

That's what it all boiled down to. What to do? Harry could tap into his dreams and predict Voldemort's every move and action, but they couldn't leave Tourlaville without serious protection, a disguise, a portkey (in the least), and a foolproof plan. After all, what could three teenagers do? It was particularly dangerous because Harry still wasn't in complete control of his magic.

No, they couldn't fight this war at the forefront, like everyone else. The question remained, how to kill an un-killable man? How did Voldemort survive the Avada Kedavra the first time? Would Harry become a murderer? Harry shook his head, if he only had known what he knew now.

Clutched in Harry's hand was a crinkled yellow paper, a little singed from the messenger that brought it. The letter contained a correspondence from Dumbledore. With this news, Harry couldn't decide between fury, fear, or gratefulness.

A horcrux, a bit of the soul, torn wickedly and stashed into a vessel, makes a man immortal. So that was how Voldemort survived. He had to find seven… no, six horcruxes, and no one even knew what they were! Well, he had a few clues, which could be dead ends, and could also result in certain death.

_You must be well hidden, for even Fawkes had difficulty the first few times in finding you, and Phoenixes are rarely flummoxed. _

Well, at least they were well protected. _For now…_ His inner monologue sneered. And now, they had a plan. Well, an idea for a plan. Ron and Hermione had already left to make lunch, leaving Harry to think some more.

_I implore you to trust in me, Harry. You say you have found the power the prophecy spoke of, what is it?_

If only Harry knew that information himself. He had no idea how to use Greta's gift. The power, no doubt, lay in the book that currently resided on his bed stand. It was certainly a

different sort of bedtime story than you'd expect. Dumbledore knew Lemmings diagnosis. However, he didn't have all the information that Harry had, he didn't have the _source_. Harry wanted to reveal to Dumbledore his revelation about Greta Gryffindor, but the information was too vital to communicate through a letter. Maybe Fawkes…?

Dumbledore had written about a ring, something that was certain to be a horcrux. He had described, in detail, Tom Riddle's obsession with Hogwarts and it's founders, their reign and relics. He had written about Tom Riddle's curse on the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and the following events. No doubt Dumbledore's initial rejection led to his first reign of terror, and the eventual death of Harry's parents.

The Ministry could be one option, a source of information. Perhaps somewhere, in the millions of archives lying about, was the answer to his questions. Godric's Hollow, supposed home and resting place of Godric Gryffindor, surely that could lead to a discovery or two. The Pureblood society most likely had a tight lock on Salazar Slytherins remains. Hufflepuff… well, what exactly was a Hufflepuff anyway? Ravenclaw had a famous diadem. Hermione would probably know what the heck a diadem was….

The journal was destroyed, that was easy. It only nearly closed Hogwarts, almost killed Harry, petrified a hospital wing full of people, forced Harry through cruel trials and tribulations, put a gamekeeper in Azkaban, and cost a girl her childhood innocence. _One down… hooray. _Harry massaged his temple.

Then, a lightbulb went off.

They could visit Mr. Weasley. Yes, the burrow was largely protected. They were a pureblood family that could be trusted. Ginny would be there… an added bonus, not that Harry would admit that to himself. We could use Mr. Weasley as a gateway into the Ministry, if only to poke and prod. Get some supplies, maybe a few more sweaters… certainly… that would work.

Harry jumped off of his chair to inform Hermione and Ron of his plans. Perhaps it was selfish of them, to want to see their family and friends, to want to feel loved and cared for again. With such a difficult task ahead, who wouldn't want one last hug goodbye?

"No, Harry." Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"Why not?" Harry exclaimed. "We need information that we're not getting here. With what we know now we can really start hunting for answers. Mr. Weasley knows his way around the Ministry."

"I agree with Harry." Ron stated simply. "The Burrow's safe, and Fred and George would know if a Horcrux was hidden at Hogwarts. They're the masters."

"It's way too dangerous!" Hermione said. "Voldemort's been looking for you, Harry. The Ministry's gone so far downhill in the past few weeks… look!" She pointed to the Daily Prophet.

Among other things, Ron snuck out one day, to the absolute fury of both Harry and Hermione. He had taken his broom to a village, about ten miles south of where they were, and subtly snuck into a wizard's bar. He stole a few of the cast away Daily Prophets and caught a few conversations on his way out. Things were bad. Attacks on Muggle towns had increased, and witches and wizards traveled in packs for safety.

"The Ministry has named _you_ their number one threat! Boy-Who-Lived Gone Missing! Reward for Harry Potter! Voldemort's already succeeded in controlling the media, and Fudge has been replaced by some puppet!"

Harry nodded. "I know all of this Hermione, it doesn't change the fact that we have to start somewhere! Anywhere! We can't sit, safe in this deserted castle, and let him continue!" He paced the floor. "We're settled, we're safe, now it's time to put ourselves in danger again."

"I don't like this, it's too close to Ron's family." Hermione said quietly.

"My family's already in the middle of the war." Ron said. "They know what they're putting themselves into… just by having our last name. They'd be happy to see us alive and well."

"And making a difference, if we can start to…" Harry turned a questioning eye to Hermione. "If this is how it's going to be then we've all got to be decided. Nothing happens without all three of us in favor of it. Agreed?"

"I agree with that." Ron nodded.

"Yes… I…" Hermione sighed. "Alright, we'll go."

"Good, let's eat." Ron said. "I'm starved." To emphasize his point, he took one of the largest sandwiches on the plate in front of him and bit into it.

They spent the next hour planning their visit to the Burrow. Keeping in mind the fact that they had to remain undetected. Ron mapped out the wards around his family home, telling Harry and Hermione how his Dad had taught them to him last year. Ron's eyes went far away, as if remembering some father-son moment in the past.

Harry and Hermione decided it was best to go in daylight, so as not alarm the household. Ron was the one who suggested apparating closer to the side door, since it wasn't visible from the street. Harry suggested they first use a spell to scope the house, to detect if any visitors were there. It wouldn't do to burst into the house while the Minister of Magic was sitting in the kitchen sipping tea with Arthur Weasley. Not that it was likely, but Harry knew he had strange luck.

Mrs. Weasley loved to cook dinner for her family. She didn't use to, oh no. In fact, in the younger years of her marriage she hated the chore. But somewhere along the lines she began to enjoy the task, and the few minutes of solidarity and comfort it brought her. It gave her the power to bring all of her sons and one daughter into the same room to talk and be a family. The few moments at the end of the table, or bustling around serving people, made her feel… happy.

This morning, however, she knew her youngest son would not be joining them. She was standing with a hot cup of tea in her hand, facing the window that held the best view of the yard and her garden. Arthur, Ginny, Bill, Fred, George and Charlie were in the other room, enjoying the day as best they could.

"Where's Ron?" Charlie had asked when he first entered the house. Molly had to explain to him all that had happened while he was abroad. And now, he was staying in England, because of his sense of duty and family. Molly should have been ecstatic, but she only felt relief.

Ginny concerned her too. She was so quiet lately, too quiet. She barely spoke to her mother and father, only went to her room. A few days after she came home for Christmas break, Molly caught her reading a letter.

By and large, that was quite normal. The look on Ginny's face and the tears in her eyes spoke volumes. When Ginny saw her she snatched away the letter and put it in her sweater pocket. But not before Molly saw the familiar scrawl of Harry Potter.

"Molly, won't you come in the other room?" Arthur asked her.

"Oh, in a moment, I was just watching the snowfall." Arthur smiled softly at her and disappeared in the doorway.

Molly turned back to the window. That was when six things happened at once.

The wards sounded loudly.

Molly saw three figures come towards her house.

Everyone came crashing into the kitchen.

Bill and Charlie kicked down the door.

Ginny looked like she was going to faint.

And last, Molly dropped her favorite teacup.

"Ron!" She yelled jubilantly. Arthur raised his wand next to her.

"What?"

Sure enough, striding down the hill towards them was Ron, Harry and Hermione. Molly had already moved to greet them when a hand on her shoulder held her back. "Don't. It could be a trap."

"Then how did they get past the wards?" Ginny asked.

Before they had a chance to think things over, however, it appeared the twins had made up their minds. Fred and George bounded out of the house towards the trio and rammed into them, knocking Harry and Ron over.

"Won-won!" Fred yelled. "How nice of you to join us!"

Ron growled in irritation. "You haven't seen me in months so you decide to pummel me?"

Harry shook the snow out of his hair and laughed, while accepting a hand from Fred. "Best greeting I've ever gotten. How's business you two?"

"Booming thanks to you, Harry!" George shook his hand fanatically. "Can't thank you enough for your patronage."

At this point they'd reached the house where the rest of the Weasley's were waiting. Ron was pulled into an embrace from his multiple brothers, father, and finally his mother. Harry stood to the side, watching the family reunion happily. That was when he caught sight of the tree in the other room.

Mrs. Weasley had enough time to think that this was the best Christmas present she'd ever received.

Later that evening Harry, Ron and Hermione were almost subject to interrogation by the Weasley matriarch. However, Mr. Weasley interceded and explained to the trio that Dumbledore had given them strict orders not to try and find them. Harry had never been more relieved to hear that.

After Christmas dinner, Harry couldn't manage to catch a moment alone with Mr. Weasley. It seemed the family had all agreed to spend as much time as possible with their missing family member, or members, considering Harry and Hermione were considered just as much a part of the family.

While the household gathered in front of the Christmas tree, Harry heard the ominous knocking on the front door. The house went silent. Mr. Weasley drew his wand and calmly went to answer the door, Harry followed, curious and alert.

Harry concealed himself in the shadows of the entryway as Mr. Weasley opened the door.

"Professor!" He exhaled in relief.

Dumbledore stood with Ing Blotch to his left, and Remus to his right. Harry ran to embrace Remus familiarly and Ing clapped him on the back.

"Albus, we weren't expecting you." Arthur said.

"I'm sorry for barging in uninvited, Arthur. I'm afraid though, I couldn't miss the opportunity to have a conversation with Harry, and of course, wish you a Happy Christmas." From his robe, the Headmaster withdrew a small box wrapped in purple paper and golden lightning bolts on them.

"Do come in."

Dumbledore, Remus and Blotch- who stumbled in awkwardly, having never been exposed to the chaotic Weasley house- were seated in the living room and served tea by a lively Mrs. Weasley.

"How did you know I was here?" Harry whispered to the Professor. 

"I didn't." The Headmaster whispered back, and winked. "But let's pretend I did. Wherever you're hiding is very secretive, Mr. Potter, for not even my best instruments and spells could track you!"

Harry released another relieved sigh. "I received your note."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere. Would you join me in a walk outside? I find the air on Christmas Eve is a bit more magical than any other night. Especially when it's snowing." The Professor said this last part out loud.

Harry soon found himself supporting the Professor in the crisp night air around the Burrow.

"I'm afraid I have to ask too much of you, again, Harry." Dumbledore sighed. His frailty finally showing through, as Harry knew it would as soon as they left the house.

"Voldemort has gained a considerable amount of sway at the Ministry, more so than I dared imagine. I thought we had so much more time than this, Harry."

"I know, Ron managed to find an issue of the Prophet."

"Yes, it seemed you left just in the nick of time, Harry. Not a week after you left, Ministry officials came to find you. However, I told them you had left the school to pursue your education elsewhere. They seemed quite befuddled at that." The old wizard's humor returned for a moment. "A few auror's were under the impression that you were hiding in the kitchens. Do you know why that is Harry?"

"Nary a clue, Professor." Harry grinned. "Though if they show up with rat traps, you'll know why."

The Professor chortled. "I thought it was something like that."

"On a more somber note, I'm afraid to say that I have very few options left before me, Harry. The Board of Governors will be forcing me from my position soon. At this point in time, I can either resign my position to Professor Snape—"

"I don't see that going over very well, Sir."

"Yes, Harry, I imagine you don't. It's either that, or I can close the school's doors and refuse to let anyone in."

Harry and the Headmaster sat on the bench of the Weasley porch for a moment. Harry thought furiously. "Do you have the power to appoint whoever succeeds you?"

"I'm afraid most of my privileges have been stripped from me, Harry. I sincerely doubt that the Board of Governors, largely controlled by Mr. Malfoy, would allow me to appoint anyone they do not approve of."

"Close the school." Harry said. "It would be better to take Hogwarts off of his map before he can get to it."

"And what about the students Harry, where will they go? Remember, you once thought of Hogwarts as your one and _only_ home."

That was true. What about the students…? "Keep the train running on schedule. Under all pretenses, the school will remain open… I've got an idea."

"And will you divulge it?" The Professor asked.

"By morning." Harry said. "I have a few things I need to check first, will you send Fawkes here?"

"I daresay, he is already here, Harry. He has always taken a liking to you, if you remember your second year." Harry did, with horrifying clarity.

"I'm afraid there's also another matter I must speak to you about. You are aware of the current Ministry takeover, and the numerous attacks being carried out. It is quite similar to what happened in Voldemort's first reign of terror. The night raids and the Dark Mark scattered across the countryside. I am doing all I can to maintain hope in the wizarding community…. But they're terrified."

"I am doing all I can, Harry. But the hunt must continue with you. You alone are capable of ending Voldemort's life. I am entrusting this to you."

"No offense meant, sir. But that's always been my job."

Dumbledore let out a relieved sigh. "I've told you all I know. Now we must both do our parts, Harry. I am afraid my age and fame have worked against me. Now I cannot do what I once intended. A heavy weight is being placed on your shoulders, regrettably."

"I understand." Harry locked eyes with the Headmaster. "I don't hold it against you. Trust me, I don't. I meant what I wrote to you, you've helped me more than anyone ever has."

Mrs. Weasley rapped on the window behind them. Harry and Dumbledore turned to face her, holding up a tray of cookies and pointing to the kitchens.

It was only much later that Harry got a few moments alone with Mr. Weasley.

"Mr. Weasley." Harry announced his presence, standing in the doorframe of his tool shed. Mr. Weasley, as per usual, sought a few moments alone to tinker with his Muggle objects. This week's project was an electric dog collar.

"Ah!" Mr. Weasley reached up to suck on his shocked thumb. "Harry! What can I help you for?" He returned to his collar, taking out a screwdriver. Harry quickly snatched it away and handed him a plastic one.

"Quick thinking, Harry." He tapped the plastic tool against his head.

"Mr. Weasley, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions." Harry asked. Mr. Weasley paused in his tinkering, but continued on after a few seconds.

"What about?"

"The Hogwarts founders…"

"Well," Mr. Weasley grabbed a wrench, which Harry stole again. "I know just as much as the next person. They were Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Lived around a thousand years ago, built the school and were made infamous."

"Do you know anything about their descendants? Are there any record of them?"

"Well…." Mr. Weasley paused. "The Ministry wasn't founded until much later. In that era most records were kept in books. Anything historical you're looking for would be found at Hogwarts or…. The Goblins are known for hoarding anything of true importance, and in that time were trusted with family gold and heirlooms… as long as they were duly compensated."

"Do all goblins reside in Gringotts?"

Mr. Weasley laughed. "Well, we would hardly know, would we? They're secretive and cunning, never revealing too much, only just enough to keep you guessing." He waved a pair of tweezers in the air. "You would be wise to only trust them as far as you can throw them. Which isn't very far… they're very compact, you see. Heavier than they look…"

Harry raised an eyebrow and tucked the information away for later.

"Although…" Mr. Weasley continued, "Hogsmeade is well-known for having been founded around the same time. Perhaps you'll find something there, Harry… but I can hardly pretend to know what you're looking for."

Mr. Weasley looked at him hard in the eyes. "And I don't think I want to know."

Harry nodded and moved to turn around. It was too dangerous to go to Hogwarts right now, and Gringotts was too risky. Anywhere they went they would have to disguise themselves. He still had his father's cloak…

A hand gripped his arm. Mr. Weasley's eyes were weary, and for the first time, Harry noticed a small scar under his right ear. Where had that come from? Was it an old quidditch injury, or something darker…? He saw the wrinkles in Mr. Weasley's brow and the bags under his eyes. How many nights did Mr. Weasley work in a place that could very well hang him the next day?

"Take care of Ron, will you?"

Harry paused. "I place my friends before myself, sir."

"Good…" Mr. Weasley placed a hand on his head. "Good."

Harry wouldn't see Mr. Weasley for months. He wondered if history would ever know that Mr. Weasley's advice was what started Harry's hunt for the Horcruxes.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: The New Year

Harry watched from Voldemort's feet as yet another Death Eater entered his circle. They were in a forest, although Harry couldn't hear sounds of wildlife. There was only the trees and silence. The Death Eater bowed low. The dirt was wet beneath him, and he happily wriggled around in it. He circled his master's feet joyfully.

"My lord, he has not revealed to anyone Potter's whereabouts. I have interrogated members of the Order separately, but we were told not to ask, or go looking for him. He is hidden somewhere very well."

Voldemort reached down to pet the top of Harry's head, he looked up adoringly at his master and hissed at the man standing in front of them. Severus Snape recoiled at the sight of the massive snake. Harry shook his head, Snape was a spy, he remembered. That's why Snape was here…

But why was Harry here? Why was Harry having so much difficulty remembering things? He knew they were in the forbidden forest, they were meeting, Snape was talking again, but he wasn't listening. He felt light and dizzy.

He was the snake, Nagini. Nagini was linked to him too. Harry and the Snake were one, which would mean the snake… Harry didn't finish the thought. He focused all his energy on leaving Nagini. The snake couldn't know, he couldn't know he was present.

Harry felt himself tearing in two, and the sensation was unbearably painful and uncomfortable. His limbs were stretching, his face was forming and his forehead burned uncontrollably. He felt stabs throughout his skin and heard himself screaming in agony.

"Harry! Harry wake up!" Hermione was hysterical, but he couldn't listen, the pain was too intense. _Leave the snake. Leave the snake. Leave the snake. _He repeated to himself.

The last thing he saw were the black obsidian eyes of Severus Snape. He screamed and rolled off of his bed in Ron's room. People were banging on the door and yelling at him to open it. Harry tore his hand through his hair and stormed across the room, forgetting where he was and what he was doing.

He swung the door open, the entire Weasley family peered in. "I'm sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to wake you, everything's fine." He slammed the door shut and retreated back into the room, sitting heavily back on his bed and reaching for _Primal Magick._

"Bloody hell, Harry." Ron exhaled, sitting against the backboard of his bed. "I mean… you have nightmares but this one was… I thought you were dying. You were seizing and shaking and…. And…" he threw his hands up. "What happened?"

"You know how Voldemort has a pet snake, Nagini?" Harry asked, flipping the pages of his book. He paused and waved an exasperated hand in the air. "She's one of them. She's a horcrux."

Hermione gasped. "I didn't know you could put…." she hesitated, "…_it_ in a living being."

Harry stood and paced the room. His mind was whirling and he couldn't stop moving. Every time he tried his foot would twitch, he felt energized and alive. Finally, they had a lead! They had several leads, he remembered. He distractingly flicked his hand toward the door, sealing it shut, and casted a quick and short _muffliato_. He trusted the Weasley's, he just didn't trust the walls, or even the oak tree outside.

"I could see through her eyes. I _was_ the snake. I could feel and sense everything it did. Similar to my fifth year, but this time it makes _sense_. They were in a forest, and Snape was there. He was telling Voldemort that they couldn't find me. Dumbledore's ordered no one to talk about us, as you know. We're well hidden, and he's not happy. We can thank Dobby with a few socks."

"You were a snake?" Ron asked skeptically.

"I wasn't _the_ snake, I was a part of it. It was like I was just looking in through a narrow window. The snake and I are connected, just like I am to Voldemort. Part of Voldemort's soul must be in her. Nagini." He hissed the last part.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Hermione sighed. "But this doesn't help us very much. Nagini is very close to Voldemort. We could hardly get close enough to it to steal her or…" she waved her hand. "There's not much we can do."

"But we _know_." Harry stated triumphantly. "And that's Voldemort's worst nightmare. We _know_ and we _can_ do something. He has no clue that we're on to him. He thinks he's immortal, but soon, we'll know otherwise."

He looked at the clock. It was a quarter after four a.m. The sun wouldn't rise for a few more hours. "We should get moving. Mr. Weasley gave me a few ideas. We need to go to Gringotts, or Hogsmeade."

"We need to leave _now_, Harry?" Ron asked. "It's the middle of the night, tomorrow is Christmas morning!"

"I'm sorry, Ron but…" Harry paused; he hated being the bearer of bad news. "If Nagini sensed my presence in any way, or if Voldemort suspected anything strange, than they could have followed me back here… I don't know how, but I don't want to take any risks, especially not with the lives of your family."

Hermione had already begun packing their things. Mainly, she began stuffing book after book into her trunk. Ron hung his head, and then turned to look outside. He appeared to be memorizing his back yard, and then he turned to his room, perhaps preserving the memory of it. Harry waved his wand and wordlessly packed his trunk. His magic was growing stronger each day, and he rarely had to utter incantations anymore. He simply extended his third arm and let magic do the rest.

"I understand." Ron moved to his closet to throw on warmer clothes, Harry did the same. Soon the trio was silently moving through the house, trying not to wake its occupants. Harry used his third arm to wordlessly move their trunks downstairs.

"You're getting better at that," Hermione remarked.

Harry didn't respond, only set their things in the living room. "I'll need a moment to create a portkey back," he said. "If you want, Ron, you can write a note explaining where we've gone."

Ron nodded and moved for the kitchen, Hermione trailing after them. Harry reached over to grab a Christmas ornament when he saw a red haired figure in the corner.

"You're leaving?" Ginny asked.

Harry held the ornament in front of him and looked at her reflection in the golden bulb. Was it Harry, or did she get prettier every day? Harry completely avoided the question. "You have a choice to make too, Ginny. You can go back to Hogwarts… or you can stay home. Most people aren't going back…" Harry paused, and then finally turned to face her. "I know I don't have any influence over what you do, but I would prefer if you were closer to Dumbledore…"

"You're as thick as thieves lately." She huffed. "Do you think you'll ever confide in me like that?"

He approached her and took her hand. "You already know more than anyone else, Ginny. You've experienced it."

There was no need to explain what _it_ was. Ginny nodded and rubbed her hands in between hers, warming them. "You can't leave with cold hands…" She laughed. "Mum's going to throw a fit when she wakes up, she was completely mental when Dumbledore came to deliver the news that you all had gone missing."

Harry could only imagine. "Don't worry, we're going someplace safe… well, except for the days we won't be there. You only need to worry then." He smiled.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "So each day I'll be guessing whether you're still alive or not?"

"No," he pushed a strand of her hair back, it was obscuring her eyes, "you would know if I died."

Ginny locked eyes with him and moved to kiss him. He stiffened, no one had ever gotten that close to him. But when he felt her hands on his shoulders and her lips on his he relaxed into the simple embrace. He inhaled Ginny's smell, and tangled a hand in her hair. He didn't think he'd ever get to do this…

All too soon it was over. "Well, at least I got to give you your Christmas present." She laughed, and rested her head on his shoulder. He sighed and tugged her waist to his.

"I went the more traditional route and left yours under the tree." Harry joked. He felt her laugh lightly and finally pushed himself away.

Ginny gave him one last peck on the cheek before turning around to ascend the stairs. She looked back once, to find Harry staring at her just as intensely. Her red hair disappeared around the corner before Harry raised the ornament to his eyes.

"Portus." He whispered. The bulb glowed with magic and he set it down on the table. Ron and Hermione returned, Hermione with a note in hand, she placed it on the table.

"Hold on." Harry extended his hand with the bulb in it and they were all whisked away.

Later that day, Dumbledore found Harry's note.

_There's a charm similar to the Fidelius Charm, you could say it keeps evil at bay. I came across it a few days ago, I do not know how to cast it, only the incantation to it._

_Caveat_

_Anguis in herba_

_Fortius quo fidelius_

_I am relying on your knowledge and resources to fill in the blanks. _

_Harry_

A few weeks later, Harry and the gang prepared to travel to Hogsmeade.

It was really, the safest option. The Ministry was out of the question, the possibility of being caught there, and imprisoned, was not appealing. For Harry, it brought back too many painful memories of the last time he had been there, and the loss of Sirius still stung. Ron and Hermione both agreed it would be best to stay away from the Ministry, which could very well be acting as a headquarters for many powerful Death Eaters. Besides, Mr. Weasley had confirmed that what they were looking for wasn't there. Gringotts, dissimilarly, was shrouded in mystery. The Goblins were a secretive group. Harry knew very little about the wizarding bank itself. The Goblins liked their visitors to enter the large, guarded and monitored doors at the entrance to Gringotts, and did not like questions. From what Harry could gather, the Goblin bank may be an obstacle to tackle at a later date.

In contrast, Hogsmeade offered many different possibilities. Harry had a few plans, all of which were thrown out the window when Fawkes came bearing news. Dumbledore had a brother, Aberforth, who was more than willing to hide the trio in the Hog's Head. This would prove invaluable, now they had a place to stay, and a source of information.

On the day of their departure, Harry woke up feeling refreshed and excited. The night before he had rigorously trained in Occlumency and he was feeling confident that Voldemort could not break the barrier into his mind. His whole body thrummed with energy. Today was the day he would find some of the answers he was looking for. And for once, be able to keep them a secret.

Breakfast was difficult to stomach. Harry managed a few mouthfuls of egg and a slice of toast, which was much better than Ron, who could only turn green at the sight of food. The first thing Harry did when entering the dining room was reach his hand toward the fireplace and ignite it wordlessly.

He was finding, with each day, that his magic was growing stronger, and it was easier to use his third arm. He no longer felt the need to use his wand, which was protruding uselessly from his pants pocket. It was empowering to be able to use magic again. Sure, it required ten times more focus and concentration than before, but Harry felt the benefits were far greater. He no longer had to worry about being disarmed in a duel, or being caught without a wand.

Hermione was pleased with his progress, but didn't agree with G.K. Gryffindor's methods. Harry found himself awake at times during the nights, pouring over the endless notes and pages of _Primal Magick._ Hermione got scared after reading a few pages on Greta's research on Inferi.

"Sometimes Harry, she scares me." Hermione admitted. "The obituary we read mentioned she disappeared for years. She may not necessarily be a good person."

Ron scoffed at that. "She's a Gryffindor, Hermione." As if that explained everything, which, in Ron's mind, it did.

But it didn't, Harry still wondered and read further. Some of her ideas were… troubling and dark. But he found himself growing defensive of her, if Hermione ever brought it up. This book was helping Harry, not hindering him. After one argument, Hermione did not mention it again for days. Harry had stated, quite clearly, that this book may be the only way to defeat Voldemort.

The subject was dropped by the end of the week. To distract herself from the growing tension in the group, and Harry's more reclusive personality, Hermione went about improving their living conditions. It was now quite a bit warmer in Tourlaville. Hermione had restored the old wooden floors and the roof and walls boasted no more cracks. The stone looked newly laid and strong enough to withstand an army, which Harry secretly hoped would never happen.

Harry helped restore Tourlaville here and there, but threw more of his energy into mastering his magic. It was blissful to perform spells again, although he had to relearn them in a whole new way.

"Harry…. Harry!" Hermione waved a hand in front of his eyes. "You scare me when you do that."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, must have dozed off."

"Do you have the portkey?" Ron asked.

Harry picked up a teacup from the table. He focused his energy on the cup, causing it to glow blue. Harry, Ron and Hermione grabbed hold of one another, and their bags. Harry felt himself spinning through space, and felt his feet land in the entrance of the shrieking shack.

"Remember, keep your head low. I'll be under my invisibility cloak, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, she cast a few spells over Ron and herself. One, changing both their hair to a dull brown, and another adjusting their features, making them appear exceptionally plain. Harry hoped they didn't run into anyone on their way to the Hog's Head.

"Let's cut through the woods." Harry said, not stopping to see if his friends were following. He plowed through the thick overbrush towards the upper edge of the village, where the Hog's Head stood. The town was very quiet, and only a few witch's walked the street. It was eerie how deserted Hogsmeade was.

Harry reached the rickety old backdoor of the pub, which hung slightly off it's hinges. Ron reached a hand forward to knock. "No, don't!" Harry whispered sharply. He grabbed Ron's hand. Harry stalked over to the window and peered inside, thankful once again that his invisibility cloak protected him from straying eyes.

Harry spotted Aberforth at the bar, cleaning a dirty glass with a raggedy old towel. His eyes were glazed over from boredom. There was no one at the bar, only a few shady characters in the corner. Harry waved hand and the glass popped out of his hands. Oddly Aberforth showed no reaction, as if his glasses often jumped out of his hands. Harry made the glass spin and then land, pointing in the direction of the door. The old barman heaved a great sigh, visible to Harry, and disappeared around back.

"Is he coming?" Hermione whispered.

"I don't know yet." Harry stared through the window. "Give it time."

Aberforth returned to the bar and, picking up his glass, resumed cleaning from where he left off. Harry furrowed his eyebrow, why wasn't he coming? Harry waved his hand to push the salt shaker on the bar. Aberforth grabbed it, shook his head and returned to working. Harry sighed impatiently.

"What's he doing?" Ron asked.

Harry ignored him, he reached one last time for the bowl of nuts in from of the Headmaster's brother. He pushed them over, scattering nuts over the bar. The many that landed on the floor in front of Aberforth scuttled to form an arrow in Harry's direction.

Aberforth emphatically shook his head and cleaned the nuts from the floor. Harry sighed. "I think we'll be waiting for a while." He retreated back toward the trio, who were hidden in the shadow of the building, he took off his invisibility cloak and shook it of the snow that had made it wet.

"How… adorable…. Enjoying a little romp in the snow?"

Harry froze, his hands suspended mid air, still clutching his father's cloak.

"How _fortunate_ that we've crossed paths _again._" Harry heard her whisper. He had two choices, he could drop the cloak and fire. With what? _ANYTHING._ His mind screamed feverishly at him. Ron and Hermione were right behind him.

He knew his face was mingled with fear and surprise. Was this what Aberforth was trying to say? _Stupid! _He raved at himself. _How could you be so stupid_? He turned his head slowly to face the origin of the voice.

Bellatrix Lestrange's warped and crazed smile met his blank stare. Behind her were two, unnamed Death Eater's. One was a squat, lumpy looking man with a crooked jaw and a wheeze Harry could almost hear from his ten feet away. The other was a dignified man who stood straight and rigid, though his austere presentation was offset by his brutish and massive size. There were only three of them, Harry sighed in relief. Maybe this was a surprise for them too.

"Speechless?" She taunted as she raised her wand. "Let's hope that keeps up."

Harry saw the wave of red light rush toward him, his instinct kicked in and he rolled to the side, and slightly down the dirt decline that led up to the pub. He was forced to let go of his cloak. He heard the two other Death Eaters fire bludgeoning charms at Ron and Hermione.

He spun around on his feet and quickly threw Bellatrix off balance. All he needed was a portkey and his friends and they would be out of here.

"THE DARK LORD WANTS _HIM_! IGNORE THE CHILDREN!" Bellatrix Lestrange shrieked, jumping up and down fanatically and pointing at Harry. "CRUCIO."

Harry ran, while dodging two more curses that sizzled and blackened the ground. He snatched a bottlecap on the ground. _Portus_, he thought to himself.

Ron and Hermione were only three feet away from him. Without a thought he opened his arms and pummeled into the both of them just as he felt a searing pain in his side. He felt the spinning sensation of them leaving Hogsmeade and approaching Tourlaville.

When his feet touched the ground Harry saw stars in his eyes and was wracked with the agony from his side. He collapsed on the stone outside of the entrance. He could hear Hermione and Ron but all the color in his eyes was blurring and they _hurt_. He tentatively reached a hand to his side, he lifted his head enough to see he hand come back, bloody and… was that pus?

He let his hand fall to his side and turned his head. His side was… boiling… and scratched. He must have been hit when he was running for Ron and Hermione. Waves of stinging sharp pain began to emanate from his side and he succumbed to the stone floor.

His head hurt… he just needed to close his eyes.

_Pain_… _Hermione was talking to him... cold drafts and stone ceilings, being forced to drink a vile liquid, and more pain. An unfamiliar voice._

Harry felt he was completely awake when he opened his eyes. He recognized the ceiling in his room at Tourlaville. He was lying face up and on top of his covers, on his bed. The blinds were drawn and Harry had difficulty telling whether it was night or day. There was no sound from any other part of the mansion, and Harry could only assume a silencing charm had been placed for his benefit. The entire left side of his upper body, including his left arm was completely numb. He was sore and his throat was parched. His head hurt, he recognized the familiar feeling of dehydration. He opened his mouth to call for Hermione but instead coughed.

It was difficult to breath and Harry took a minute to recover from his coughing. His lung heaved for air. He was grateful he felt close to nothing at this moment. He made to curl his body into sitting up but regretted it as the skin around his wound started to spasm.

"AAH!" Harry clenched his jaw and angrily breathed through his nostrils. His vision spotted and went black. He slammed his head backwards onto his pillow and resisted the urge to turn into the fetal position, as that would only cause him more agony. It looked like Hermione's numbing charm was only _so_ effective.

He panted until the waves of pain subsided and clutched the covers. His hands were dry and his lips were chapped. The skin on his hands was so dry that they cracked under the intensity of his grip. He swore in frustration. The skin on his hands was most certainly bleeding now. He opened his eyes and was relieved that he could see again. His eyes swiveled around the room and stopped on a white, wavering figure in the corner.

_A ghost…?_ Harry's eyes widened. However, it was too far away. It may have been a hallucination or a trick of the light. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. When he opened them, the shimmering white figure had drifted a little closer, and was almost visible to Harry.

"Hello?" Harry croaked.

The vision flickered for a moment. It almost disappeared but managed to persist and drifted, once again, closer to the bed. "…Hello?" Harry tried again.

"… _Pain…_" It's voice reverberated and trickled into Harry's ear. The sound was impossible to describe. It was light and wispy, like a whisper, but Harry fully heard it, and could hear the sound oozing and bouncing around the room. "Do you feel… _Pain…?" _

Harry shuddered as the figure glided closer, he could make out the vision of a man. His hair was curly and long, and he was dressed in a strange wizard's robe. It was cinched with a rough rope around the waist and Harry could see a second layer of green cloth underneath. His neck was long and his whole appearance was rather gangly, if not for his thicker, barrel like chest. Most unusual, however, was the look on his face, he was not looking at Harry, but off into space, and into another world.

"Yes." Harry answered, wondering about this whole situation. He hoped Hermione would be here soon. But it didn't seem as if the ghost was dangerous, it had barely acknowledged Harry's presence. But continued to stare into space, giving Harry a chance to reflect.

Most of the ghosts he knew at Hogwarts, save the Peeves, were benevolent, harmless beings. And even Peeves was not that dangerous, only mildly annoying and embarrassing. It clearly wasn't a banshee or a ghoul.

"What's your name?" Harry asked him.

The ghost's head swiveled around, searching for the source of the question. His eyes landed on Harry, and Harry felt a chill travel up his spine. His eyes were silver and the color in them moved and rippled, like water. "My… name…?" It pondered the question for a while. "My…. Name…"

Time stretched on as Harry waited for the answer. "I am in… _Pain…_"

Harry stopped craning his neck and slammed his head back into the pillow with a huff. He immediately regretted it as blue, white and black spots invaded his vision. _I should really stop doing that_.

"You… are in pain too." The ghost marveled. Harry sighed and let out a strangled 'yes, obviously'. Harry briefly considered the possibility that he was hallucinating. In the Muggle world, pain medication could cause hallucinations. Perhaps he was high on some sort of… pain spell? No, Madame Pomfrey had had plenty of opportunities to try that on him before.

"I… am in pain, too." It—he said slowly, and deliberately.

Harry resisted the urge to lob his bedside lamp through the apparition.

"I feel pain… in my very soul."

Harry paused in his ruminations and sighed. He was very annoyed right now, but only because he had just woken up, and was suffering from the aftereffects of a nasty hex. He really should be more sympathetic to this ghost. Tourlaville had been abandoned for many years, hadn't it? This ghost just needed some… lively conversation.

"I feel your pain, too." The ghost glided closer to the bed, and Harry felt his hair standing up on his arms. Something about this man, ghost, thing, didn't seem quite right. "I have not sensed… another's pain… in many long years!"

Harry looked the ghost up and down one more time. "I see… and who are you? Can you tell me your name…?"

The spirit swayed back and forth and its head lolled for a minute. "They once called me… Sir… Sir… Leon."

"Well, Sir Leon, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance this evening." Harry outstretched his hand, and then retracted it. _Ghosts don't shake hands, Potter_. Snape's voice chided. _Ten points from Gryffindor, for acting like a bumbling fool. _

"Oh, shut it." Harry grumbled.

It—Sir Leon looked up and creased his forehead. "No," Harry shook his head, "not you." The apparition drifted again, closer, and Harry inched away from its looming presence.

"HARRY!"

All too suddenly, the spirit vanished, leaving Harry staring at the space it once occupied. Hermione stood in the entrance, one arm carrying books, and the other with a tray of food and a glass of water.

"Oh! I didn't expect you to be awake so soon! I only brought food for myself! But I can run down and get you some!" Hermione jumped into action, hurriedly explaining his wound and his current condition. "Ron and I have been looking after you. You gave us a real scare, Harry." She fluffed his pillow behind his head.

Harry tore his eyes from the empty space and grinned. "I'm glad to hear you and Ron are okay, Hermione."

She huffed. "Ron's been in a tizzy. Oh!" she bit her lip, "don't tell him I told you that."

"I have _not_ been in a tizzy." Ron exclaimed, coming into the room and throwing himself across the bottom of the bed. "I've just been preoccupied with your constant worrying!"

"And what does _that _mean?" Hermione retorted.

Harry easily tuned out the coming argument, if it could be called that. He knew his friends enjoyed teasing each other a little bit too much. Instead, he returned to staring at the space where Sir Leon once was.

_Interesting…_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Friends in Unlikely Places

The next time Harry awoke he tested his legs. Finding himself capable of standing up, he uneasily walked to the door and out into the hallway. Small twinges of pain came from his side, but left quickly. At his door he stopped and lifted his shirt to look at the wound. A large, enflamed stripe of red, blue and green worked its way down his side.

_Bloody fantastic, now where's Ron and Hermione? _ He began to whistle to himself as he walked slowly down the hallway, but quickly stopped. Harry grimaced and came to the realization that he had absolutely no musical talent, but not for want of trying.

In the dining hall, Harry found evidence of his two friend's latest meal. In the distance, possibly in the old courtyard, he heard the far away voice of his best mate.

Unfortunately for Harry, all the years of Quidditch injuries did him no good in realizing he was sick. Harry was still slightly concussed, and walking about only served to disorient him. In his youth, if he had slipped, or fallen, or was ill in any way, his Aunt Petunia would wave it off as 'the boy trying for attention again', Dudley would call him a crybaby, and his Uncle Vernon would make a non-committal grunt and return to his newspaper. Harry didn't realize this, but this contributed to his high tolerance for injury.

So, disoriented and confused, Harry managed to take the wrong, identical hallway to the courtyard… on the opposite side of the dining hall. Consequently, in two minutes a confused Harry was standing in an entirely different room, searching for the courtyard he was certain should be where he was standing.

_And now the rooms are changing on themselves._ Harry thought miserably. In his efforts to turn around, and go back the way he came, he tripped over his own two feet.

Harry let out a string of curse words he had only heard once from his uncle.

During the summer when Harry was seven, and Petunia was experimenting with cutting his hair, Dudley had gotten it into his head that all respectable boys of the age of seven built forts. So, in the backyard of number four, Privet Drive, Vernon and Dudley toiled away two months building a shoddy tree fort (which was destroyed in September, when Dudley discovered animals lived in trees). Additionally, most of the labor was done using drills from Uncle Vernon's drill company that he worked for. Needless to say, that fort was not the epitome of safe construction.

One summer day, Harry remembered hiding outdoors, behind a large bush, and watching their progress. Dudley was asked to hold something, and Vernon proceeded to drill noisily through the wood. At that time, Dudley noticed Harry in the bush. Distracted, he let go of the wood. Vernon drilled right into his hand.

The string of curses that he released was the same that Harry repeated in Tourlaville. These were also the same string of curses that turned their neighbor's face, Ms. Violet, an unattractive chartreuse color.

Regardless, Harry continued to curse and grip his side. In tripping, he had run into an old wooden chair. The top of the chair, an ornate, curvy wood piece, had rammed into his side. His vision went white and cloudy. _Focus on not falling,_ his rational side told him. _Keep your feet on the ground_.

When the sensation began to pass, he straightened up. Mentally, he checked himself over. _Ten fingers… ten toes. Wait, has that pinky always been bent like that?_ His side flared up in pain again and he crumpled disgracefully to the floor. As he fell, he vaguely registered a flickering, silvery white form in the corner float closer.

Harry let out a cry of pain. His vision clouded over and several tears leaked out his eyes. If anyone else had been present, he wouldn't have possessed the rationale to be embarrassed. Harry Potter, curled up on the ground, whimpering like a puppy that had just been kicked. Actually, his Uncle Vernon _had _kicked a puppy once, and Harry was fairly certain that he looked more pathetic than the puppy had.

"Do you feel… pain?"

And there, gliding toward Harry, was the unmistakable apparition he had seen and spoken with yesterday. Arguably, Harry was questioning his sanity at this point, but he still felt slightly victorious in seeing the ghost again. If Sir Leon appeared and Ron and Hermione could confirm it… Well, maybe he was not so mad. His side burned and writhed in agony, Harry gasped and panted on the floor.

"It is you…again." Sir Leon floated in his vision. He bobbed back and forth uneasily and the vision flickered. "The dark one…"

"The dark one?" Harry snorted indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?" The back of his mind registered annoyance. He cringed and slowly turned to lay on his back. _Excellent, now start working toward standing, and you'll be a functioning wizard in no time, Potter._ He placed his hands on the stone ground and stumbled upward, using the traitorous dining room chair as an assist.

As soon as he was standing, Sir Leon wordlessly pointed to his head of hair. _Oh, the dark one._ Harry thought. _At least he's not calling me The-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived._ "My name is Harry Potter." He explained.

"Yes…I am… Sir Leon." The ghost rolled its head and made eye contact with Harry. He shivered as his green eyes met those, strange, murky orbs.

"Harry?" Hermione questioned from the doorway. Harry turned to face her and shouted, as the image of Sir Leon began to fade.

"No! Wait!"

Then he did something characteristically stupid of him to do.

He punched his side… hard.

Pain burst into his eyes, and his head, his very being, and he cried. A strange rush came through his head and he came to, halfway to the floor. He was bent in half with Ron and Hermione holding him up.

But, Harry smirked, they were staring at Sir Leon. "You are in… pain?" The apparition asked. Harry cradled his side. Ron turned the chair around and placed Harry delicately in it. He didn't have the energy to wince as his side flared and burned. He did, however, wave a hand in front of him.

"Ron, Hermione. Meet Sir Leon."

Hermione studied the strange looking Sir Leon and then extended her hand.

"How do you do?" She asked.

Harry had enough sense to laugh. Remembering his own actions when he first met ghosts in his first year. Of course this wasn't the first time Hermione had seen a ghost… but it's easy to forget. Ron quickly pushed her hand down and she blushed. "I met Sir Leon last night, when I woke up." Harry explained. "He's… er… attracted to pain, I think."

"I feel pain… in my very soul." Sir Leon's voice reverberated eerily around the room. It slithered in the shadows and returned to them in an echo. Hermione shivered and looked sadly at him.

"My name is Hermione, Sir Leon. It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you own this castle?" She gestured around her.

Sir Leon looked from left to right. He swiveled his head. He glanced at the ceiling. He drifted back and forth. He sniffed and looked at the floor intently. "I… lived here…."

"When?" Ron asked, and pointed to his clothing. He turned to Harry, "looks like he was living around the medieval times, doesn't explain how he knows English though…"

"Ron." Hermione sighed, "He's inhabited this house for what might be a thousand years, we're not the first people he's talked to. Just the first in a long time."

Sir Leon sighed and stared intently at Hermione. "My name… is Sir Leon." He repeated, for what Harry felt was the tenth time. He was very certain of his name, at least.

"Well, Sir Leon." Harry began. "Do you remember how you got here? Or do you remember you are dead? You are, in fact, a ghost in this place."

Silence descended on the group as Harry eagerly awaited Sir Leon's answer. He tapped his foot impatiently and looked into those, opaque silver orbs.

"I died... in 1105. Yes." Sir Leon drawled. Then suddenly, his countenance changed. Angry warped his features. His aristocratic nose crinkled fiercely, and his hands clenched. His eyes turned deep, obsidian black as he growled. "_He_ killed me… that foul, repugnant beast. That perverse abomination of slime! A plague on wizard kind, he was. A PLAGUE! A DIABOLICAL MAR ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH!"

He roared and vanished in a wave of wind. Harry held his hand over his eyes as the chill swept across him. It eased the ache and burn in his side, slightly. Ron blinked his eyes and took out his wand. "That's one angry ghost…" He muttered.

"Yeah…" Harry agreed. "Best be on our guard…"

"He's not a poltergeist, Ronald." Hermione lowered his wand with her hand.

All too soon, Sir Leon wavered back into being. He shimmered in front of them, his eyes still blazing, though dimmed slightly.

"My condolences on the manner of your death, Sir Leon." Harry said. "But… _who_ exactly are you referring to?"

"_Him,_" he spat. "A man of no conscience."

Harry pondered for a moment before tentatively asking his next question. "And… did you ever know any of the Hogwarts founders?"

Hermione gasped. "Yes! You were alive around that time. Did you ever hear about a school being built…? Or perhaps of the founders? Gryffindor?"

Sir Leon hissed. "YES. I've heard of those dunces. Of course I've heard of that idiot idea. Hiding witches and wizards in the mountains! Far from prying eyes, oh yes, I've heard of their gall." He sniffed. "Simpletons and that… that… that…"

"Yes?" Harry prodded.

"…_Slytherin…_"He spat loathingly. "That disgusting addlepate. That depraved, corrupt, sinful…!"

"Yes, we know." Ron drawled sarcastically.

"He took my wand!" Sir Leon continued, ignoring the three in front of him. "Never returned it to me! So I acquired another wand, and challenged him after I found out _exactly_ what he did behind closed doors! With... with _her!_" He raved.

"Oh yes, I'll tell you exactly what happened! She was _mine_. _Mine. _And he had the slippery, skulking, skills to snatch her away from me… My _Merwenna_. And she _died for him. She_ DIED for him. That snake! That evil, evil snake! Got in a fight they did… oh, yes. A duel to the death, him and that Godric. Kept it quiet, kept it secret, didn't want the populace to know there was dissent among the _great teachers._ Dissent among _the best of us_. And she… she was there!"

He wailed in despair. "She protected him from death! Protected him from justice! How injurious to me! It was only right that he would _die_ at the hands of his most loyal friend, it was only _honorable_… and she couldn't even let him _die. _She could not allow him to _redeem_ himself! And they didn't even pause, didn't let their eyes sweep over her still frame. No…_ they continued_ until the others stopped them. By then, it was too late! Death had taken her! And the snake left! LEFT! To his caves… _to mourn_. He said. To _mourn their noxious affair._"

"Caves?" Harry inquired. "Caves where?"

"So I confronted him! I confronted him and took him here, told him what was what. Told him never to dare… never to dare again. Then I took his wand from him… and I… He didn't fight. He didn't speak… he just looked at me with those empty eyes… leading to an empty soul and _an empty heart_. The snake looked only at her _portrait_. He was not WORTHY to look. He WAS NOT!"

Sir Leon wailed an unearthly sound and faded in and out of Harry's vision. He gripped his wand tightly and Hermione shuddered audibly as the castle thrummed with malignant energy.

"Harry… I don't like this." She gripped his left wrist, his wand hand. "There have been many documented accounts of malicious spirits haunting and terrorizing their victims. Sure, most of it is Muggle codswallop, but let's just not take the chance _today_."

Harry held up his hand and pointed to his ear.

"…Pain… oh the pain…" Sir Leon flittered from wall to wall. "…Oh the pain…"

"…Sir… If I could ask you a few questions…"

"And you!" He raged again. "What are you doing on MY land?"

"We're in hiding," Harry gesture to himself and his friends, "From the descendent of your enemy, Salazar Slytherin." Leon's eyes grew wide and he seemed to be about to enter a frenzy when Harry stopped him. "Yes, he's diabolical. You see, there was a prophecy made that makes me the only person who can kill him. So he's out for my head, you see?" Harry made a slitting motion with his wand.

"And this prophecy… the prophecy about me and him… has caused us to hide here, in your, er… lovely castle." He gestured to the dusty and half hinged chandelier above.

"Well… you may…" Sir Leon struggled with words for a moment and let out a garbled "…stay.."

"Thank you. I understand that that must be difficult for you," Harry continued. "Also… this bloke, this descendent. He was quite a bit obsessed with the Founders of Hogwarts. And he's taken a lot of their things and… er—"

"Enchanted them to be quite nasty," Hermione piped in, and nudged Harry forward.

"Yes... right." Harry searched his mind for his next words. "So do you think you could tell us about anything they might have left behind. Anything important they owned, or perhaps something they were known for?"

Sir Leon's countenance relaxed, He reached a ghostly hand to stroke the gold belt around his waist. "I do remember a few things… a few, before I was cast from their circle." He snarled. "They should have listened to me. Hufflepuff was the worst. She had a high-pitched voice that would scratch your ears and that _insipid_ giggle. A drunk too, no doubt."

Sir Leon continued his diatribe listing various aspects of the founders that did not meet his expectations. Hufflepuff gave more thought into her hairstyle than politics, and lost her wand in very inconvenient places "… in a dragon's den, a dragon's den! It took us weeks to get it back!" Rowena Ravenclaw interrupted far too many conversations and spoke in riddles and rhymes, "…to _promote_ the thought processes she told me…" Godric Gryffindor never took anything seriously and was facetious at best, "… there were far too many bar wenches in his jokes…" Salazar Slytherin, of course, remained largely unmentioned, which Harry thought was best for the moment.

During this diatribe, Hermione scoffed and huffed, and ran her hands through her frizzy hair. She only just managed to listen when one sentence caught her attention.

"… so they held _his _processional in Segetul, _his_ homeland. North of here, buried in that old dragon's den Helga lost her wand in. Protected by quite a few trolls for a while to stop any looters—"

"Segetul?" Hemione jumped, "I remember that town from History of Magic. It was overrun in the fourth goblin war. Ragnov the Repugnant collapsed all the tunnels in the area because he thought wizard leaders were congregating there. A few were opened after the war was over, to search for the dead bodies of loved ones. They weren't found, and the caves are thought to be haunted."

_Damn, I should have paid some attention in that class,_ Harry thought.

"Could we get there somehow?" Harry asked, turning to Hermione.

She bit her lip and thought. "It's relatively unknown. I'm sure it wouldn't be that much of a problem, really. I mean, I'm sure… V-voldemort doesn't know about this. No one has known the Founders resting places for a thousand years. "

"It's even _further_ north of here?" Harry sighed. "It's cold enough already."

"Yes, it's closer to the north eastern coast in Scotland."

Harry nodded and dismissed Sir Leon with a wave. The apparition didn't seem to notice as he had long since wandered to the far left of the room and was currently midway through the wall, but had stopped in mild confusion. Ron blinked awake in the wooden chair he had been sitting in.

"So we're going someplace? Bloody finally," he cracked his knuckles, "we've got work to do."

_Harry._

It called again.

_Harry._

He couldn't run. His arms and legs were lead. He was so tired. So, so tired. He stood facing darkness. He was alone, all alone.

_I'm coming for you._

Consciousness faded in and out.

Harry awoke in a layer of sweat.

Rocks were hard. Harry shifted on the large gray stone he was resting against. Only he wasn't really resting. His body was tense. He could feel the knots in his shoulders and neck, and the bruises on his left ankle from walking on unstable paths. It was their third day searching on the southern mountainside of Segetul's largest, most prominent mountain.

Harry fingered his wand. He had better luck without it really, but it was very comforting to have. It didn't respond well to him anymore. In fact, Harry like _feeling_ his magic more and more, and it soon became his preferred response, though he was limited to the few things he had taught himself, and the lessons he had learned from _Primal Magick_.

_Harry_.

Harry stopped mid-stride. _I'm mad, I'm bloody mad. That was the wind._ He took several calming breaths and struggled to contain the rising panic in his chest. Ron and Hermione remained oblivious ahead of him.

_Harry._

He dropped his pack and swiveled, facing the direction of the sound. A massive rock. _Of course it's a rock, look around you, Potter, that's all that's out here!_

He looked ahead. Hermione was fixing Ron's shoulder pack. Ron looked pleased and was whispering something in her ear. Harry turned back and reached his hand out. It was smooth. Smooth and warm. He closed his eyes and focused.

"No, I mean it. I appreciate it." Ron said.

_No he doesn't, he's just saying that. He's your friend._ Hermione chided herself and fought the upcoming blush. His hand was resting on her lower back. _How did it get there? He had pulled her close to fix the leather clip… That's why, he wanted his stupid clip fixed._

"… Looks good even when you're not trying." Ron mumbled.

_Wait, what?_

"Wait, what?"

_Hermione, oh Hermione. _Her mother's voice said. _Please pay attention to this boy. Pretend its class! Except this is _far_ more important! It's a boy! _Hermione rolled her eyes internally.

"I said, er, you're one of those girls that still looks good when you're not trying. You know…?" He pointed to the dirt on her check. "We've been hiking and things… and you still look…. Er… good."

"Good?" Hermione repeated. _Oh God, I'm a parrot. Did I just sound like that? My voice is so… screechy. _

"Yeah," he rumbled, a smile forming, "_good._"

Hermione raised her eyes to look at him. _He has such nice eyes. I know all the girls like Harry's eyes but… oh, Ron's eyes are so nice and warm. _His face was much closer than she thought, and he was also much taller than she thought. When did he get this tall? Last summer? Or was it the summer before that? Was that the summer she spent with Victor Krum? And now, just to spite her, the universe has made Ron more attractive to throw it in her face. Yes, that's it!

His jaw was so nice though. They should be saving the world right now, but it's so nice. Like his uncle's. Hermione saw a picture of the Prewett's once and they were very handsome. Ron looks like them. He has the best parts of Bill and Charlie in him, and the twin's influence was lessening as he got older. Hermione could swear he was getting more serious and…

_Wait, where was Harry? _Hermione looked to her left. He was resting his hands on a flat rock downhill from them, and closing his eyes.

"Maybe we should stop and rest a bit?" Ron's eyes followed hers.

_That sounds nice, Ron, let's rest together._

"What?"

"Er… yes let's all rest together. Harry too. So we don't get lost… er… yes." Hermione stumbled.

They both stood rooted to the spot. Silence. Hermione could hear her heart in her ears and she was sure she was completely red at this moment. _And Harry isn't paying any attention. We… he… he could just. _Hermione saw Ron lower his head and their foreheads rested against one another.

"So…" Ron grinned. "We're resting."

Hermione couldn't stop the giggle from rising. It was that giggle. The giggle Parvati and Padma used. The giggle Lavender Brown directed at all the boys in their years. She _hated_ that giggle, but Ron laughed with her, so it was okay. She was doing well, wasn't she? She knew she needed to do something.

Then Ron and her were flung from their spot by a large explosion.


End file.
